All-consuming
by lincolnlog89
Summary: Tied to this altar, I know death is fast approaching. I'm not resigned to it, but there's not a lot I can do to change it. These men have stripped me of everything; my clothes, my freedom, my dignity. All that's left for them is to strip me of my very soul, which they plan on doing soon by the looks of that dagger aimed at my heart. AU/Supernatural/Slash.
1. Fates Collide

**All character rights belong to Suzanne Collins.** **AU/Supernatural/Slash. No Capitol or Games in this one, folks. Just writing that's filled with all my guilty pleasures. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing!**

_Peeta's POV_

My lungs are about to burst. The forest seems endless in the night, trapping me in its looming timbers and creeping shadows. I'm lost, but I can't stop running. They'll catch me.

These men were once my neighbors, my confidants. I've baked the bread they've broken at their dinner tables every night. Why can't they see that I'm still that boy they watched growing up and playing in the village square with their own children? The boy whose hair they'd ruffle affectionately when they'd walk in my family's bakery and laugh at the flour always dusted on my cheeks? Why can't they see _me_? I'm still here.

They're afraid. Afraid of what's inside me; of the unknown and what they can't control. It scares me too. Ever since the night of the possession, I have felt that I'm no longer in control of my fate. Truth is, I'm not. I did what I thought was best for everyone I loved by running away in the dead of night, a pathetic attempt to protect them all before things got any worse. Who the hell knows where I planned on going. Maybe I was thinking that I'd end up finding salvation out in these woods, escape from it all and go back to the way things were before.

But nothing comes easy.

I had travelled all night and an entire day through the woods, seeking to distance myself from home as much as possible when I realized I wasn't alone. Five men I knew from my district, dressed in black cloaks, had followed my trail and descended upon my weary frame.

"_Demon!_" they hissed as they circled around me.

"_Hiding in a child like the coward you are!_" one of them, my district's apothecary, scorned.

"_How pathetic_," another one, the village butcher, sneered. It was then that I saw them all brandish daggers. It was then that I ran. They had no desire to just let me sneak away from district 12 and never return. They wanted vengeance against the evil within me. By default, they wanted my blood spilt upon the earth.

So here I am, stumbling in the dark, desperate for escape. These men I've known all my life clearly sense the darkness within and have no intention of helping me. I'm a lost cause to them now. They don't see the baker's youngest boy battling for his soul, but instead see a demon residing in its earthly vessel. A "vessel" that must be destroyed to rid the world of its darkness. My body, _me_, is merely collateral damage in their crusade.

I'm screwed. I'm royally screwed.

For all I know, I'm running in circles. I must be because as I rush past a twisted oak, a dark shadow leaps out from behind it and tackles me to the ground. I'm kicking and screaming now, desperately punching into the darkness, hoping to find purchase with my assailant's jaw. I feel my fist connect with bone and gratification runs through me, despite the fact that I just fucked up my knuckles.

Before I can go for another swing, more hands are here and they are grabbing my arms, my legs. I'm being dragged like a sacrificial lamb through the fallen leaves. They take me to a small clearing in the woods where I can see a dark mass in the center. I can't make out what it is until they hoist my body on top of it. It's a stone table. No, not a table; an altar. Where the hell did this come from? Vines twist and caress the rugged and crumbling stone, suggesting it's sat here in the forest far longer than I've existed on this earth. How many "lost souls" of district 12 have been dragged to this very spot to meet their demise? How many times have my "friendly neighbors" travelled out here to do this very deed? The men bind my wrists and ankles to each of the four corners of my impending deathbed and one of the men, a blacksmith from the Seam, flaunts his dagger in his hands. I scream out in fear but he doesn't cut me; he cuts my clothes. He destroys every last inch of fabric and tosses it all away till I'm left exposed to the chill night air and to their cold and bloodthirsty eyes.

My shoulder blades dig into the unforgiving stone beneath me and the coolness of the rock sends chills up my spine. The men depart to the edge of the clearing where they light torches that illuminate the night. The district apothecary approaches me and begins painting strange symbols all over my body. This must all be some ritual to lock the evil inside; to keep it from jumping into one of them when I die. The thought of my soul forever intertwining with this wickedness makes me thrash and scream until the blacksmith gags me with a white cloth. _Asshole._

Tied to their sacrificial altar, I know death is fast approaching. I'm not resigned to it, but there's not a lot I can do to change it. These men have stripped me of everything; my clothes, my freedom, my dignity. All that's left for them is to strip me of my very soul, which they plan on doing soon by the looks of that dagger aimed at my heart.

How fitting. The fucking butcher is the one to take out his blade. My mind immediately goes to a nauseating image of my body hanging from one of his meat hooks. _Rump roast à la Peeta Mellark_. I'm ripped away from the disturbing image when all the men menacingly gather around my body. I look in the face of each man, rebuking them, as I hopelessly struggle against my bindings. All my squirming is smearing some of their symbols off my naked body. Good. I hope it fucks up their ritual in a way that I end up coming back as a ghost so I can haunt their asses.

But all twisted fantasies aside, I am seriously freaking out right now. I could scream some more, but all that comes out is a muffled whine behind the gag. The gag's a little excessive since it's not like anyone's around to hear me scream. We're in the middle of fucking nowhere.

My vision's blurred with tears, but I can still see well enough to witness the butcher raising the blade above his head. Shit. Shit shit shit!

I close my eyes and brace my bared body for the blow, but it doesn't come. Instead, I hear a horrible cracking sound that causes my eyes to shoot open in surprise. The butcher's neck has been snapped and he's slumping to the ground, taking his knife with him. His killer still stands behind his lifeless body. He's young; can't be too much older than me. He's a boy I've never seen before, certainly not from district 12. I would've noticed a boy like him. The wind rustles through his platinum locks and his eyes reflect sheer rage. Before I have another second to appraise my unlikely savior, he whips out a sword and begins attacking the other four men. The scene's gruesome. I turn my head into my shoulder to shield myself from the bloodbath unfolding before me. I can't tune out the screams though; the way they gurgle out of the men I once knew before being silenced with the final death blow. Soon, it goes quiet.

I turn my head and look up to see the older boy standing before the altar; before me. The light from the torches dances off his lightly tanned skin and makes his eyes smolder. I was too preoccupied before to really give a shit that I was naked, but now I find myself thoroughly embarrassed. Being bound and gagged, there isn't much I can do to cover myself up, so I'm just left lying here before this strange boy, pleading to him with my eyes to just let me go.

The older boy suddenly hoists himself up on top of me and pulls out his sword again. Shit. He's not here to help me; he's like some sort of psychopathic killer on a spree and I'm his final victim.

I start my useless screaming behind my gag again and I buck my hips up to try and knock him off me. I look into his eyes, the eyes of my potential killer, and plead for mercy. He's staring right back at me, so intensely. One of his hands reaches down to touch my tear-soaked cheek.

"Shhh," he whispers to me. "I won't hurt you." He puts his sword away as if to prove his point.

If he's not going to kill me, then what the fuck is he doing just keeping me tied up like this?

"I won't hurt you like those maniacs were trying to do," he tells me, "but I'm not going to let you go until I get what I want."

What does he want that I can possibly give him? Before I have another moment to contemplate an answer, I feel his hands run ravenously down my sides and grab hold of my waist. His thumbs begin tracing delicate circles along the bare flesh of my hips.

I think he's making it perfectly clear what he wants now; he's going to take me on the very altar I'm still tied to.


	2. Can't Go Back

**Thanks for reviewing, you guys! I know the start was a little unusual, but I'm so happy you approved. Let's continue, shall we?**

_Peeta's POV_

_I feel his hands run ravenously down my sides and grab hold of my waist. His thumbs begin tracing delicate circles along the bare flesh of my hips. I think he's making it perfectly clear what he wants now; he's going to take me on the very altar I'm still tied to. _

I can't help but pull against my bindings again.

"Stop," he barks, quickly reaching up to grab my wrists. "You're making yourself bleed."

I stop. The boy looks concerned as he hesitantly lets go. What does he care if my wrists bleed or not? Bloody wrists aren't really going to affect what he plans on doing to me.

"The more you struggle, the more it'll hurt," he informs all too calmly. "You're not going anywhere, so just behave yourself and try to enjoy it."

Is he fucking serious right now? Weighing my options, I suppose getting fucked isn't as bad as being brutally murdered. And the latter was my fate tonight before he showed up. Still, this isn't exactly how I imagined losing my virginity. Seriously, who does this guy think he is? He has no idea the evil he's tangling himself up in. Besides, this is my body and I'm tired of everyone claiming if for their own.

I stare dead into his eyes, challenging the boy, as I begin deliberately grinding my wrists into the bindings again. It hurts like hell, but I'm determined to make a point: _You can't tell me what to do. You're not the boss of me._

The blood is smearing all along my wrists. I can feel the wetness. Something stirs deep inside my chest that approves of it. It likes the blood and self-mutilation. It's not me.

The boy reaches again to grab my hands and forcefully pins them to the altar. He's pissed.

"What did I just tell you!" he shouts furiously. I'm scared, but my eyes never leave his as I begin screaming behind my gag again. I just keep screaming away, locked in a staring contest with the boy. Hopefully he'll think I've gone mad and he'll just let me be. Instead, he squints his eyes and purses his lips as if he can see right through the ruse and he's clearly not amused.

"You're seriously going to be that big of a bitch about it?" he chides.

I don't know why he keeps talking to me when I'm still gagged. My only way of replying to such a stupid question is to narrow my eyes and give him my best death glare.

He takes out his sword again and for a moment, I think I just signed my own death warrant. Instead of slitting my throat, he cuts the bindings off my ankles and then the ones digging into my wrists. He's still straddling me when he wraps his arms underneath me and lifts me up to face him. He slowly removes the cloth from my mouth. I don't scream now, but simply continue to stare deep into his eyes, desperate for a glimpse into his depths. I then see his eyes flicker down to my lips.

"What's your name?" he demands. My fear makes me hesitate for only a moment.

"Peeta," I answer. I'm strangely compelled. "What's yours?"

"My name is Cato."

"_Cato_," I repeat in a transfixed whisper. He suddenly leans in and presses his lips gently against mine. My hands are propping me up and I feel Cato's hands sliding around my wounded wrists as if to brace me in case my elbows buckle; or just to keep me from trying to escape. But I don't resist. I'm too stunned. This moment is a complete juxtaposition to the enraged boy that was just yelling at me earlier. It was a complete juxtaposition to the brutal boy I had earlier witnessed killing my aggressors. Cato's kiss is soft, lighting caressing my lips. He kisses me again and this time I can feel the very tip of his tongue glide lightly along my bottom lip before he reluctantly pulls back. His stare makes me blush.

"I'm taking you with me," he states as if the matter isn't up for discussion.

"What?! No!" I object anyway. "You have to let me go!"

"Why?" he scoffs derisively. "Is it because of those freaks I killed? Are there more of them after you? I'm not afraid of them. I'll kill them all if I have to."

"No! And they weren't freaks!" I instinctively defend. I can't help but remember them for the men I knew before all this happened. Cato's eyes grow wide in confusion at my outburst and I quickly move on.

"Don't you even care _why_ they were trying to kill me in the first place?" I question incredulously.

Cato casually slides himself off me and I pull my knees up to my chest in a sad attempt to cover myself. He coolly strides over to one of the slain men on the ground. "I assumed they were sacrificing a virgin for some twisted dark ritual," he answers with a shrug as he turns the corpse over with his foot. The blacksmith. Bile tries to force its way up my throat. I shy away from the sight and will myself to remain composed. I focus on what Cato just said.

God, is it that obvious I'm a virgin? I can feel the blush spread on my cheeks yet again. Whatever. That's not the real reason he found me tied to this stone slab so I don't feel inclined to share that piece of information.

"If only it were that simple," I cryptically reply instead. This seems to peak Cato's interest as he turns to face me and cocks his head to the side. "What's the real reason then?" he questions intriguingly.

Do I tell him? Do I speak of it aloud? What if the truth doesn't set you free? What if it just gets you killed? It almost already did.

"Those men weren't bad. _I am,_" I whisper. "I am cursed. A demon lives within me."

Silence follows for what feels like eternity. I knew I shouldn't have said anything. I never fucking learn. I'm going mad now trying to read Cato's mind as he stares into what feels like my very soul. Is he contemplating ending me for the good of the world? Or is he really trying to look past the darkness to save the soul of an innocent boy? Finally, he speaks.

"Whatever's in you, I won't let it hurt you. And I won't let anyone else hurt you because of it. I'm not going to let evil take away any more from me than it already has. I'll protect what's mine. I'll protect _you_, Peeta."

There's a solemnity in Cato's words that suggests a painful history behind his promise to protect me. What has evil already taken from him?

Before I can ask him this, he bends down to remove the cloak from the butcher at his feet. "Put this on," he orders. "I don't want anyone to see your body. It belongs to me now."

"What? Are you fucking serious?" I sneer. "Just because you saved me, I'm suddenly your property? You think I owe you something? I don't owe you shit!"

Cato descends upon me in an instant, fury and aggression marring his chiseled features. His one hand wraps around my neck to jerk me closer while the other hand pushes the balled up robe into my chest. "This isn't about what is owed. This is about what I want. Now shut your smart little mouth and put on the fucking robe or I'm gonna make you wish you died tonight."

"I'm feeling that way already," I spit back up at him as I begrudgingly take the robe. He just smirks and roughly releases my neck. This giant fucker has quite the grip strength. I open the robe and swiftly cover my indecency. I can't help but have a strange mixture of feelings about this boy. I really am grateful to him that I'm still alive, but my life's just cost the lives of these five men from 12 that I know will not go unnoticed… or unpunished. I definitely can't go back home now. And as relieved as I may be that Cato's vowing to protect me, I despise him for his sudden possession of me. _Possession_. I hate that word. Why does everybody and everything think they can just own me? This boy thinks he owns me now. He doesn't seem to understand that I've already been taken; claimed by a darkness that he's not prepared to face.

Before I can try and make a break for it, Cato's hand wraps firmly around my forearm. I suppose I just traded one shackle for another. As Cato leads me away from the light of the torches, I'm left with a deepening curiosity of who this boy really is and just what exactly happened to him to bring him here to me…

The darkness inside is curious too.


	3. Cato's Story, Part 1

**I think it's time we take a step back and look at Cato's past to bring us up to speed. Sound good?**

_Cato's POV _

The pain is excruciating. My flesh is on fire. Why am I not dead yet? I'm just standing here, watching the flames lick my body and consume me. I can hear my mother screaming, but I can't see anything past the inferno that surrounds me. It's more than just her screams; it's everyone I've ever known screaming in agony. I can finally feel myself start to fade away…

My eyes dart open as I shoot myself out of bed. _Shit, another nightmare_. But damn, it seemed real. They always seem so real. Covered in sweat, I rip the covers off me and open my window just in time to get a rock thrown at my face.

"Bullseye!" Clove cheers.

"What the fuck, Clove!" I bellow back.

"I was planning to just throw it at the window to get your attention, but you did me one better by opening it at the perfect moment. Thank you for making my day already, Cato."

"Don't mention it, bitch," I sneer.

"You're the bitch for sleeping in so late. I'm ready to go. Now hurry up and get your ass out here. I wanna spar!"

I mumble a few obscenities under my breath as I throw on some clothes and lace up my boots. I grab my sword and climb out my bedroom window onto a sturdy branch of a giant ash tree that hugs the side of the house. As a child, I naively believed my father when he joked that this ancient tree is what held our home up. Older and wiser, I still regard it highly, for its sheer size and age commands respect. It's a tree befitting for district 2.

Deftly scaling the massive ash, I slide to the lower level of its canopy before jumping through the air to grasp the lowest branch. Grip firm, I use the momentum to hurl my body around the branch before letting go. My descent to the ground is a skillful flip and perfectly sound landing.

"Fucking showoff," Clove dismisses as she turns to start walking. "Took you long enough to get out here. What was the hold up? Did you have trouble getting your bra on this morning?"

"You're _so_ damn funny," I sneer. "I can't imagine you ever having a problem with that seeing as you probably don't even need a bra with those tiny tits of yours."

"Shove it, you ass," is her courteous retort.

As we walk through our district, our weapons gleam majestically in the morning sun. Everybody's weapons are gleaming. Here in district 2, even the children carry some form of arms with pride and deference. We are born to yield power to protect our home. Strategy, combat, hunting, and sheer survival course through our people's veins. It courses through mine.

Passing the roaming citizens of 2, we see a boy that tried to force himself on Clove last year. More and more of those our age are beginning to assert their dominance over the spouse of their choosing. This foolish son of a bitch tried to take Clove by pushing her against a wall and shoving his tongue down her throat. Though sheer power is the way most people do it here, the odds were not in this poor bastard's favor. Instead of submitting, Clove reached out and grabbed his tongue long enough to cut it out with her dagger. Suffice to say, no one's tried to take her since.

The whole tradition of claiming and settling down has yet to appeal to me. I guess if I had to spend the rest of my life with someone, it would be Clove but we're not like that. For one, I like guys. Two, we're best friends, not lovers. Clove is definitely not the kind of girl to ever take the title of someone's "lover." Besides, I'd rather keep my tongue.

Finally, Clove and I reach our destination, the center of district 2. Nicknamed "The Academy," we find it bustling with people as usual. We quickly warm up and spar for a bit, though it takes me a while to get into my element after another shitty night of sleep. Every scream or cry I hear from the people training around us distracts me, flashbacks erupting of my nightmares of everyone being burned alive. I eventually get my head in the game and Clove and I spend the entire afternoon training, helping the younger kids, and even teaming up to kick ass against others our age stupid enough to take us on.

"Good teamwork," Clove commends, a smile of sheer bloodlust gracing her lips when our final adversary admits defeat.

"As always," I reply.

We cool off under the shade of a tree on the outskirts of the Academy, watching others in the district hone in on their craft, and I'm lost in a daze until Clove catches my attention.

"Cato?" she speaks as she snaps me back to reality. "Is something going on with you?"

"With me? No. Why do you ask?"

"You just seem 'out of it' lately. You're always still in bed when I come over and then when we go out, it's like your mind is in some other dimension. Even now, I catch you with that far-off look in your eyes. It's like you're not all here anymore."

"I'm fine, okay?" I snap. "I've just been having trouble sleeping. Mind your own business."

"Fine, asshole," she sneers back. "Excuse me for giving two shits about you."

Time passes in complete silence now, the tension thick. But it's not like I can tell Clove the truth of what's going on with me. It'll make me look weak, and I am NOT weak. I mean, how can I tell her that I've been plagued with horrific nightmares and visions of everyone dying for the past few weeks? How can I tell her that that's what's been unsettling me all this time? They're just stupid dreams. They shouldn't affect me the way they do. But they do and I can't tell her that. No one admits their fears in 2. So instead, I just let the awkward silence run its course.

"It's getting late, Cato," Clove finally mumbles, still clearly pissed, as she gets up to leave. "I better get home and help my mother with chores. You better be up on time tomorrow."

"I know. I know. I'll be up. Crack of Dawn." I wave her off dismissively.

"See you then, dickweed" she says with a roll of the eyes. I flip her off as she leaves, but my stomach suddenly twists in knots as she disappears from sight. I want to call out to her and make her stay with me, but instead I try to shake the abrupt foreboding sensation by getting up from under the tree and heading back home. Dinner with my parents is dull, as usual, and my appetite is less than ideal. The knots in my stomach won't go away. What has me so fucking unnerved? I can see my parents eyeing me from their plates. Am I that easy to read?

"I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed," I mutter coldly.

As usual, my night is spent tossing and turning in bed. Sleep does not come to me here. I feel so restless and I don't know why. After several hours of failing to fall asleep, I dress and grab my sword. I have to get out of here, out of this district. I feel suffocated. I decide to head into the woods for a late night hunt alone. I've found that if I can't sleep, it's best to make use of the time in any way I can.

Outside of the district, I find myself much more at peace. The woods calm me; soothe me. I never go out here without Clove, but lately I've been finding myself desperate for escape. Here, I find myself finally growing tired. _So much for late-night hunting_. Sword at my side, I lean against a sturdy tree and slump down, the sound of crickets lulling me into that allusive slumber.

"_Cato…_"

I hear voices calling my name. No, not calling; _hissing_. These voices I don't recognize. They are not my parents. They aren't my comrades. I can't place the voices with anyone from my district. They sound wrong. I don't want to go to them.

It stirs me from my sleep. I open my eyes to clear skies and treetops. I'm not in my bed. I've fallen asleep in the woods. _Shit_, it's totally past dawn. Clove's pissed, I'm sure of it. I look over at my sword, still untouched. Now that I'm awake, I no longer hear the voices. It must have been yet another nightmare. The sun has made its way above the hill now so I put my sword away and begrudgingly head back to 2.

As I make my way back home, I feel uneasy again. Something isn't right. I feel like the forest is staring at me. Maybe the forest is trying to warn me. This is the worst I've felt since all the nightmares started happening. I can't help but increase the speed of my stride. I have the sudden urge to run home.

My intuition proves all too accurate when I break out of the forest's tree line. Looking out at my district, my nightmares have come to life. Everything is on fire. Plumes of smoke cover the morning sky with a darkness that makes my heart skip a beat. This isn't my district anymore; it's hell. Every home is ablaze, engulfed to the point where there can be no salvation. I immediately run straight into the chaos to find charred bodies littering the streets. There's no sense of time or space as I call out to anyone who might hear me. This is just like my dreams. What the fuck happened here? Did anyone escape? I have to make it home. I arrive just in time to witness the roof caving in before my very eyes, the ash tree now fully embracing its name. The roar of the flames is almost deafening, but the sound starts to fade. My vision starts to fade. Shit, am I blacking out? No, I can't let go at a time like this. My parents could still be alive in there. I kneel on the ground and will myself to stay conscious. Back to reality, I rush closer to the searing blaze. There's no way in. I call out.

"Mother! Father!" No one responds.

The heat of the flames is intense as my nose and eyes burn. I feel the hot smoke scalding my throat and I'm forced to back away. There's nothing I can do. I'm too late.

Despite the blistering heat coming from the wild flames that surround me, a sudden chill takes over my body. It's instinct. I draw my sword and swing around to find a black mass rushing towards me. I slice through it and it shrieks an unearthly cry that has me gritting my teeth in agony. I hear it again, all around me, and I think it's just its echo, but it's not. There are others; gathering to their fallen brother's call. What the fuck is this thing? Its black skin sizzles in the dirt and I notice it has eye sockets, but no eyes. Its limbs are wiry and distorted, adorned with razor talons at the tips. This creature is not of this world. And by the sound of the approaching shrieks, more will find me soon if I don't go now. I turn swiftly back to the smoldering ruins of my home. I don't want to leave my parents or Clove behind, but I know deep down they're no longer here anymore. There's nothing for me here anymore. All I have left is my own life and if I want to keep it, I must go.

I rush through the burning district in the opposite direction of the agonizing shrieks. The creatures must sense me because it sounds like they're following me. I burst out from the smoldering wreckage of 2 and make my way to the forest once more. Dashing between the familiar timbers, I'm not sure where it is I'm going. 2 is the only place I've ever known. But I can never go back there. There's nothing left to go back to. I pump my legs harder to push myself further away from the ear-piercing shadow creatures that hunt me. I feel their presence in the woods. They're coming for me. I can't let them take me too. Fatigue fights to slow me down but I don't let it. I have to get away. I travel deeper and deeper into the woods, farther than I've ever been. I find myself quickly approaching the rushing waters of a wide river that block my retreat to the other side of the forest. I don't slow down and I crash right into the freezing water that encloses me with its bitter embrace. It's deep. It rushes me away and I don't fight it. I'm completely submerged and welcome its cover as it takes me to my unknown destination. Finally, my lungs scream for air and I burst through the surface, grabbing hold of a large rock for salvation. My fingers form a death grip on its jagged edge and cling to it, keeping me afloat amidst the raging waters. I'm not sure how far the river took me, but I listen above its roar for the sound of the creatures.

The shrieks are mere whispers now, far off and retreating further with each passing breath. When the forest becomes silent, I fight the currents to make my way to the other shore. My body is screaming at me, exhausted from its plight, yet I manage to reach dry land. I haphazardly stumble further into the woods until my body gives out on me. I'm pathetically clawing at the ground now, trying to increase the distance between me and my newly shattered past, one grueling inch at a time. It isn't until my weary mind breaks down too that I crumble into a pitiful heap on the forest floor and succumb to unconsciousness.


	4. Cato's Story, Part 2

**CupcakeSprinkles14- Thanks! I knew I needed to give Cato a backstory. Hopefully it does him justice. How's this for a quick update? lol.**

**SakuraDrops141- Thank you for the kind words. I think I'll alternate between POV's in the future so we can get more of a look inside Cato's mind.**

**MangoMagic17- Hello! You always appreciate the chapters with more character development :) I like that Cato and Clove had a strong friendship. I think it can serve as an anchor for Cato to look back on and let him know it's okay to get close to people.**

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_Cato's POV_

My eyes flutter open to the sound of mockingjays. It's bright outside. Have I been asleep for mere minutes or a whole day? I strain to pull myself up from the cold earth and realize that I must have been lying there for quite some time. My muscles ache madly, pleading with me to rest just a bit more.

"Stop it!" I order my body. "I've always pushed you to the limit. This time should be no different. You can take it."

"Who the fuck are you talking to?" a strange voice asks from behind me. I whip my head around to see a boy my age sitting by a tree with his knees pulled up to his chest. His chocolate brown hair is combed neatly to the side and he's looking at me with intrigue and confusion. I don't know this boy so I quickly stand and draw my sword.

"Calm the fuck down," he dismisses. "If I was planning on doing you harm, I would have done it while you were passed out. Duh, brainless."

"Shut the fuck up!" I bark back. No one talks to me like that, except for Clove. And now I'll never hear or see her again. "Who do you think you are?" I hiss at him.

"Temper, temper," he chides while waving his finger at me. I'm two seconds away from cutting that finger off. Fortunately for him, he digresses. "Well, I 'think' my name is Marvel and I 'think' I live in district 1. Does that answer your question?"

He's definitely a smartass but at least he did give me a piece of useful information. "I'm in 1?"

"Just outside of it, yes," he confirms. "These woods here surround our district. I was on my way to the river to wash up when I stumbled upon you; literally. You might have a bruise the shape of a Marvel-sized footprint on your leg later. My bad. Anywho, I decided it was best to stay here to make sure you didn't get eaten by wolves or something."

"Well, I'm fine now so you can go."

"Not so fast, big boy," Marvel declares as he quickly scrambles to his feet. "I can't just find a stranger passed out in the woods and not get to know his story. What's your name? Where are you from? What are you doing here? Why-"

I turn and brusquely walk away from him, done with him and this entire conversation, not caring to answer any of his questions because, frankly, it's none of his damn business. My mind is still reeling from the metaphorical rug that was just pulled out from under my feet only a day ago.

"Don't go! Please! I can help you!" He pleads, following me. Why is he so desperate for me to stay?

"And just why would you help _me_?" I challenge. "You don't even know me."

"I would know you if you'd let me," Marvel replies. "Now come on. What's your name?"

I stare at him for a while, trying to read his intentions. Strangely enough, his intentions seem pure.

"My name is Cato," I sigh as I give in. "From 2."

"I assumed you came from 2," he grins. "You are classic district 2."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I scoff in defense. If he's about to insult my people, the people who were just burned alive, then he's about to breathe his last breath.

"Relax. What I meant to say is that you're what I've heard district 2 to be. Yes, you're temperamental and aggressive like they say people from 2 are, but they also speak of 2 as strong and fearless. Physical specimens of great power; a true force to be reckoned with. I can see that great strength in you."

I'd normally take such words as a compliment, but they somehow manage to cut me deep. "Well, get a good look then, cuz I'm the last of 'the great power.'"

Marvel seems confused by my statement. "What are you saying, Cato? What happened to district 2?"

"It's gone," I say as a matter-of-fact, "burned with everybody in it. Why do you think I'm here near your measly district 1? It's cuz I've got nowhere else to go."

This boy, Marvel, just looks at me with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. He seems genuinely affected by what I'm telling him. "Holy shit, man. How did it happen?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me. You'd be surprised."

Just a minute ago, I wanted nothing to do with this kid. Now, I felt succumbed to tell my story. If something were to happen to me, which it probably will with those 'things' hunting me down, then someone else in this world should know my truth to put in the history books. I speak.

"I was out in the woods and came home to find the entire district consumed in flames. There were these shadow creatures with black skin and hollow eye sockets that cried these ear-piercing shrieks. I didn't even know such monsters existed. They were trying to come after me. I'm the only one who got out alive. Everyone else is dead."

"No way," Marvel gasps. "They're real?"

"What do you mean, 'they're real?' You know about these beasts?" I ask urgently.

"Believe it or not, my grandmother used to tell me about shadow creatures just like the ones you described. She called them 'mutts' though. Said they're a demonic manifestation. They appear when summoned and are capable of great devastation."

"They were summoned?" My head's spinning. These "mutts" have an identity known to others besides myself. I've been feeling like I was going crazy but now I know I'm not alone. There are others who've seen them. Perhaps I can find answers. I want, no, I _need_ to find answers. I'm suddenly on a mission. I suddenly have purpose again. "I must speak to your grandmother," I demand.

"Can't," Marvel replies solemnly. "She's dead."

Well, shit.

"But all is not lost, Cato. She told me these stories after she took a trip to another district; district 12. There lived a man there, Haymitch, who warned her of these things. He was a hell of a lot younger than my old grandma, so I'm sure he's still alive over there."

And the plan is back on. "Well then," I decide, "I'm going to 12. Uhhh… where is it?"

Marvel shoots me a devious grin. "District 12 is all the way on the edge of Panem. Take me with you and I'll get you there."

"Why the hell would you want to go with me? None of this concerns you."

"Are you kidding me? This sounds like an adventure of a lifetime! You, my friend, just confirmed that all my grandmother's stories were true. No way am I missing out on this. Come on, let me go. I'll fight right alongside you if those mutts find you. Just admit it; you need me."

I laugh. "You're fucking delusional if you think I _need_ you. I don't _need _anyone. But if you insist on coming with me and getting yourself killed, then suit yourself."

Marvel snorts in derision. "Well, you're just a bed of roses, aren't ya? This is going to be a fucked-up journey of epic proportions, I can see it now."

Despite my less-than-personable behavior, Marvel ends up guiding me through 1. The people here are smaller and seem to take more pride in their grooming habits than physical prowess. I begrudgingly end up staying the night with Marvel's family, but at least I get a home-cooked meal out of it. In the morning, with supplies and a spear as his weapon of choice, Marvel leads us to his district's docks.

"Travelling by water around Panem will get us to 12 quicker than travelling through it by foot. And I know the captain well. He's a good man. He'll get us there in one piece."

The captain greets us as we board and when we set sail, I find that my mind is still clouded with visions of my family and friends dead at the hands of those mutts. For weeks I was haunted by nightmares that eerily paralleled what ended up being my reality. Was it all just some crazy coincidence or did I really have premonitions of 2's demise?

"I can't help but notice you seem troubled, young lad," the ship's captain startles me from my thoughts.

"I'm fine," I lie. "I'm just swept up in my thoughts right now."

"You're too young to be living in your head," he preaches. "You should be out living the real world."

"Well, the real world has kinda gone to shit for me, captain."

"Oh, now, that can't be. Tell me your troubles."

Once again, a complete stranger is taking an interest in me. I don't open up to people like this, but the thought of my time running out creeps back in my head and I'm urged to pass on the story. And, once again, my far-fetched tale of mutts and flames doesn't seem far-fetched at all to this crusty old seafarer.

"There are things that you and I are never supposed to know about," he whispers when I finish telling him my plight. "Things that are not of this world."

"The strange thing, captain, is that I dreamt of it happening. For weeks, I saw it in my dreams and I felt it in my bones. My own best friend noticed it changing me, wearing me down. How could it be that I knew what was coming?"

"Fate works in mysterious ways, lad. You were clearly destined to live on. Fate must have a different course for you to follow, so it gave you those premonitions to steer you clear of danger."

"It was those premonitions that drove me out into the woods and saved me. But I kept them to myself and so I only saved myself. I'm so ashamed," I admit. "I should've spoken up. I should've said something."

"Intuition is a blessing, but hindsight is definitely a curse. There's nothing you can do now to change the past, young lad. All that's left is to learn from it."

"You're a wise old bastard, ya know that?" I offer the captain.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," he smirks back.

I keep to myself, practicing with my sword, until we reach our destination. Leaving the ship, I feel a rough hand rest on my shoulder.

"Godspeed, young lad. May you find what you're looking for," the captain salutes.

"I'll be damned if I let anything stop me," I reply smugly.

Marvel shoots me a look when I say that. "You might find that phrase a little too applicable to your current situation, Cato." He's got a point. Those mutts looked to be straight from hell.

Stepping out for the first time onto the outskirts of Panem, I find it eerily nostalgic. The landscape is a vast array of woodland with what looks to be pristine mountains in the distance. "How far to 12?" I ask Marvel.

"My grandmother told me it was at least a day's walk from the docks. Straight west. I brought my father's compass with me."

"Then west we go," I command as I start to march straight into the woods. The docks disappear quickly behind us as we trek our way deep through the evergreen forest outside of 12. I fight the urge to go back and say a final farewell to the captain. I'll see him again, right?

"Is it just me or does it feel like we're not alone?" Marvel mumbles about 3 hours into our hike.

"It's the forest," I reply. "It's watching us." The hair prickles on the back of our necks the entire time until night begins to fall.

"We camp here for the night," I declare as darkness rapidly consumes the woods. I build a small fire while Marvel unpacks some provisions he brought from 1. I'm still worn out from the events of the past couple days so I succumb to sleep immediately after dinner.

I'm awoken in the dead of night by a scream that somehow stirs up an aching pain in my chest. I can't explain it, but it unnerves me to my core. I feel compelled to find its source. If it's fate's way of guiding me to my destiny again, I know now to heed its calling.

"Marvel," I grunt as I kick him with my foot to try and wake him and get him to follow me. He doesn't even stir and I'd assume he's dead except for the fact his snoring is loud enough to wake the dead. I give up on him and make my way alone through the pitch black forest towards where I heard the scream.

As I walk, I hear the scream again in the distance. There something so familiar about it, like my heart recognizes the voice, although it makes no sense seeing as everyone I've ever known is dead. Still, it stirs me into a panic and I run straight towards it. Through the darkness of the woods, I suddenly see firelight. It's a ways away, but I'm drawn to it. The fire casts shadows of figures looming against the timber. What the fuck is going on over there? I make my way closer, sneaking from tree to tree. I peak my head around to see that the shadows belong to five men dressed in full-length black cloaks. As the flames from torches somehow burn brighter, it's then that I notice the stone altar in the center of their manmade formation. Is this some kind of twisted cult ritual?

It has to be because there's a boy tied to the altar. He looks just a little younger than me. They've stripped him of his clothes. His hands and feet are tied with rope to each corner of the stone slab and his mouth is gagged with a white cloth. He's thrashing about like a wild animal about to be slaughtered. And that's when I realize that that was exactly what was happening; these cloaked freaks are going to kill him. This must be one of those perverse offerings where they sacrifice a young virgin to the darkness.

I can't help but fixate on the naked boy about to be sacrificed. He's nothing like I've ever seen before. His fair skin glows in the fire light. Symbols I assume to be from an ancient language are painted on his naked body. His golden locks are in tangles from struggling yet they frame his perfect face so effortlessly. I can see from here the deep blue oceans of his eyes that glisten with tears against the fire. I'm completely spellbound. The tears begin to stream down his face and I can hear his muffled screams behind the gag. The boy is terrified and he has every right to be. He believes these men are going to kill him. But they're not. They're not going to kill him because I'm going to kill them before they even dare touch the boy again. They won't take him because I've decided in this moment that he's mine.

I want him.

The men gather closer to the altar and one of them pulls out a dagger. I can't waste a second more. They're all so distracted by their precious sacrificial lamb that they don't notice me coming. I silently creep behind the man with the knife. Just as I close in on him, he raises up his dagger to thrust into the boy's heart. _I'm right behind you, asshole_. I place my hands on either side of his chin and twist. His neck snaps like a twig. As he slumps to the ground, the other four men look at me in shock and soon they each brandish a dagger of their own. _Bring it on_.

I take out my sword and the longer blade gives me the upper hand. I slice right through one of the men before he can even get close enough to stab me with his pitiful dagger. Another tries to throw his blade at me, but I duck and swing around to decapitate him. The last two see this and try to run away. _Hell no_. No one fights me and lives to tell the tale. I put my sword away and pick up two of the fallen men's daggers to show off my lethal knife-throwing skills, courtesy of Clove. They both imbed deep into the spines of each of the men and they drop like sacks of potatoes. I'll let them just lay there; time will finish them off.

With those losers accounted for, I eagerly return to the boy's side at the altar. I hoist myself on top of it, on top of him. I pull out my sword to cut his hands free. The sight of the blade sends him into a wild panic. He bucks his hips up, trying to get me off him. He doesn't seem to realize it's getting me off in a different sense of the phrase. He begins to scream again behind the gag, his fearful eyes pleading with me. God, those eyes. They're hypnotizing.

"Shhh," I whisper to him, caressing his cheek. "I won't hurt you."

The boy looks at me in disbelief, but he relaxes a little when he sees me put away my blade.

I observe his bare chest rapidly rising and falling with fear. His distress and vulnerability has my dick standing at attention. I'm so fucking turned on by him right now I can't stand it. I decide right then and there he isn't going anywhere. But if I untie him now, he may try to run away… I'm not going to untie him anytime soon. As far as I'm concerned, he'd be dead right now if not for me. Therefore, his body is mine for the taking. And I definitely plan on taking it.

Okay, so maybe I lied then about not hurting him. I'm certainly not going to kill him or anything, but my plans for him may involve a bit of pain. But I intend to balance it for him with just as much pleasure. "I won't hurt you like those maniacs were trying to do," I tell him, "but I'm not going to let you go until I get what I want."

The boy cocks his head in confusion at my statement and I find his innocence adorable. I run my hands ravenously down his sides, smearing more of the black paint, and stop to grab hold of his waist. I begin tracing circles along the bare flesh of his hips with my thumbs. His skin is soft.

His eyes grow wide in understanding and he panics. He starts pulling against his bindings and I quickly take notice that he's rubbing his wrists raw.

"Stop," I bark, reaching up to grab his wrists. "You're making yourself bleed."

My own panic seems to have startled him. He freezes at my command and so I hesitantly let go.

"The more you struggle, the more it'll hurt," I tell him. "You're not going anywhere, so just behave yourself and try to enjoy it."

As if challenging me, he begins to deliberately grind his wrists into his bindings again, all while staring me dead in the eyes. It has to be excruciating, but he doesn't even flinch as the rope destroys his tender flesh and his blood smears along the altar. The boy's got nerve and he seems to have some fight in him. I like that; a lot. But right now I don't appreciate that he's trying to prove a point by hurting himself. No one's allowed to hurt him, even him.

"What did I just tell you!" I roar as I grab his hands to pin them down. His eyes never leave mine as he begins to scream behind the gag again. He is really wound up right now. If I'm going to take him on this very altar, he's making it perfectly clear that he doesn't intend on giving it up to me easily.

"You're seriously going to be that big of a bitch about it?" I harass him in between his bouts of muffled screams and thrashing.

He stops his tantrum to narrow his eyes at me and he gives me a death glare that screams "fuck you" better than any voice could.

In all honesty, none of his resistance should deter me. Hell, his fight would just make it even hotter. But I find myself unable to go through with it. The familiarity I felt in his scream before I even saw him and the way it churned a pain in my chest has me thinking there's something exceptional about this boy and I want to give him exceptional in return. After the night he's been through, I decide now's not the time to take him.

I take out my sword again and cut the bindings off his ankles and wrists. Still straddling him, I wrap my arms underneath his back and lift him up to sit and face me. Now sitting at my eye level, I slowly remove the cloth from his mouth. He doesn't scream. He doesn't attack me. He simply looks at me with an intensity that nearly paralyzes me. Only his lips are able to keep me grounded. It's the first I've seen them behind the cloth. They look delicious.

"What's your name?" I demand. He simply continues to stare until his precious lips finally part to speak.

"Peeta," he answers. It was just one word but his voice stirs me. It easily replaces the echoes of his frightened screams in my mind and puts me at ease. He parts his lips to speak again. "What's yours?"

"My name is Cato," I oblige, pleased that _Peeta_ even cares to know my name.

"Cato…," he repeats in an awed hush. Hearing Peeta whisper my name, I can't help myself. I just have to have one kiss. Just one. I lean in close and taste his lips. He doesn't resist. They're so soft and so perfect. It seems ludicrous, but I believe I'm officially addicted. One kiss could never be enough.

"I'm taking you with me," I state. It isn't up for discussion.

"What! No!" he fights. "You have to let me go!"

"Why?" I scoff. "Is it because of those freaks I killed? Are there more of them after you? I'm not afraid of them. I'll kill them all if I have to." I mean it too. Just the thought of those men trying to harm him sets my blood to a boil.

"No! And they weren't freaks!" he snaps angrily. His sudden outburst and defense for the men who were just trying to kill him takes me by surprise.

"Don't you even care _why_ they were trying to kill me in the first place?" he questions more calmly.

I reluctantly slide myself off of Peeta so I could examine one of the men I killed. "I assumed they were sacrificing a virgin for some twisted dark ritual," I confess with a shrug as I turn the body over with my foot. This guy is the one I decapitated. He'll never be able to tell me his reasons now. They'll follow him straight to hell.

"If only it were that simple," Peeta states cryptically. Wait, so that wasn't why they strapped him to the altar? _Is_ Peeta a virgin? It makes no difference to me, but now I'm compelled to know the truth as to why those men wanted to kill him so badly. I turn to face him. "What's the real reason then?" I implore.

I notice his fearful hesitation to come clean. Finally, he answers.

"Those men weren't bad. _I am_," he whispers. "I am cursed. A demon lives within me."

Fuck. Here I am, being pursued by dark entities after my very life, and this boy literally has one in his body. I'm lost as to how I fight my own demons, how in the world can I help him with his own? I stare deep into Peeta's sapphire eyes and I can see the pain of his relentless struggle. I know that pain. I felt it when I realized everyone I ever gave two shits about was dead at the hands of evil. I have to prove to him that he's not alone.

"Whatever's in you, I won't let it hurt you," I promise him. "And I won't let anyone else hurt you because of it. I'm not going to let evil take away any more from me than it already has. I'll protect what's mine. I'll protect _you_, Peeta."

I bend down to remove the cloak from the dead man at my feet. "Put this on," I tell him. "I don't want anyone to see your body. It belongs to me now."

"What! Are you fucking serious?" he suddenly sneers in outrage. "Just because you saved me, I'm suddenly your property? You think I owe you something? I don't owe you shit!"

I descend upon Peeta in an instant, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to wrench him closer. "This isn't about what is owed," I grunt through gritted teeth as I shove the robe against his bare chest. "This is about what I want. Now shut your smart little mouth and put on the fucking robe or I'm gonna make you wish you died tonight."

"I'm feeling that way already," he snarls as he begrudgingly takes the robe. I lead him away from the altar, eager to remove him from the sight. I travel in the direction I came from, taking one of the torches to light the way. I feel Peeta's eyes on me the entire way back to camp where Marvel is still fast asleep. I force Peeta to lie down between me and Marvel and I stand guard until he falls asleep. We'll have plenty of time to talk in the morning.


	5. No Choice

**SakuraDrops141- So glad you liked it! And I'm happy you approve of the POV switch because now we're back to Peeta's, lol.**

**CupcakeSprinkles14- Cato's POV is more difficult for me since he's so aggressive, but I'll definitely be coming back to him. I love Marvel :)**

**JacksonTheGreat- You're too kind. I'll definitely keep it up.**

**Evilstrawberry- Haha, not gonna lie, you gave me a good chuckle on that one. Thank you.**

**Your Failing Epicness- Thanks so much! I'm not quite sure yet where this story is headed, but I will do my best to keep it going for you :)**

**swishyla- I wish he was too! Cato's such a strong character and he had such potential to grow. But that's what fanfic is for, right? Lol.**

**TylerStories- Thank you so much for reading it! And liking it! It means a lot.**

* * *

_Peeta's POV_

I wake up late in the morning, entangled in the oversized robe of the decapitated blacksmith, to the smell of breakfast cooking on an open fire. I feel less than rested after another typical night of agonizing nightmares. My throat feels like sandpaper and I can't recall the last time I had anything to eat or drink. I woozily sit up to find a boy stoking the hot coals of a campfire. He was the one that was asleep when Cato brought me to his camp last night.

"Mornin', Sleepyhead," he beams at me. "My name is Marvel."

"I'm Peeta," I reply with a weak smile. I look around to find Cato missing.

"Cato went to go look for something," Marvel replies in perception. "He'll be back. Told me to watch you and get you fed. Don't be difficult on me now by trying to run."

"What are you gonna do if I try?" I challenge.

"Well," he ponders, tapping his finger on his chin. "I guess I'll run after you, of course. I'm pretty fast and I'm taller than you so my stride is probably longer. I bet I'd catch you. But when I do, I'll keep it between the two of us that you tried to run. I won't get you in trouble with Cato."

"Did Cato tell you how he found me?" I probe with caution. Maybe this Marvel character isn't as lenient with the possessed like Cato is.

"Yep," Marvel states, unaffected. "I woke up this morning to find him sitting next to you, brushing the hair out of your eyes. Said he found you two seconds away from getting your heart dug out with a dagger in some sort of sacrificial ritual to kill demons. Decided to take you for himself. So, I guess that brings us to this moment. You want some breakfast?"

I'm stunned by his casual demeanor regarding the whole situation. "You don't seem to be like Cato," I pry, ignoring his question on food. "Are you really just gonna sit here and let him take me like this?"

"Have you seen Cato?" Marvel laughs. "He's massive! I'm not stupid enough to mess with him when he's made up his mind about something. And he's definitely made his mind up about you. I'm just along for the ride, Peeta. But, come on now. Cato's a hunk. If someone's gonna have their way with you, I think you struck gold."

"Oh yeah," I reply sarcastically while I inspect my tender wrists from last night's chaos on the altar. "I'm one lucky son of a bitch." Venom is practically dripping from my cynicism.

"Now now," Marvel begins as he sits by my side and continues stoking the fire. My stomach is crying for food but all I really want at the moment is water. Marvel seems to be oblivious to my need and continues to speak. "I know your situation is less than ideal, Peeta. Cato told me all about your curse. My late grandmother, rest her soul, spoke of her travels in these very woods and mentioned the kind of bat-shit crazy things that happen out here. Even if you somehow managed to get away from those men last night on your own, I can't imagine you successfully escaping these woods by yourself. I think I can speak for both Cato and I when I say we'll look out for you."

As if on cue, I hear a crunch of twigs to the right of me and whip my head around to find Cato making his way back to camp. In his hands are a bunch of leaves, roots, and flowers.

"Aww, did you go picking flowers for your sweetheart?" Marvel teases as Cato approaches us.

"They're medicinal, douchebag," Cato sneers. Marvel looks over at me and gives me a wink. Cato ignores him and sits down next to me and begins to grind the plants between two rocks. He looks like he got just about the same amount of sleep as me.

"Are you sick?" I ask him warily.

"No," he answers, "but I think you might be. I noticed last night; your skin is hot to the touch. I gathered some herbs in the woods that can help break the fever."

How much was he touching me last night? Besides him straddling me when I was naked and tied up of course. I can't help but cast my eyes downward. "It's not a fever. It's… _the darkness_," I whisper. "Ever since that cursed night, my skin has always been hot to the touch, as if _its_ fire can transpire out from my flesh."

"Does it hurt?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"No, I hardly even notice the rise in temperature anymore," I assure him.

"Well then, at the very least this stuff will help reduce the swelling on your wrists."

Cato takes my hands in his and starts smearing the juices from the crushed plants onto my wounds.

"I'm still mad at you for doing this to yourself," he states.

"I wouldn't have done it if you'd have just let me go," I say back. He looks up at me and chuckles dryly.

"I'm not apologizing for taking you, so you'll just have to learn to deal," he informs me.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Marvel interrupts. "I'm gonna go pick some berries to go with it. I'll be back in a flash."

As Marvel goes gallivanting into the woods like a free-spirited child, I get nervous when I realize that it leaves me alone with Cato again.

"Is there water?" I ask, both positively parched and hoping to fill any void of silence between us.

Cato reaches into a bag and pulls out a canteen. I take one ravenous gulp and Cato suddenly rips it away from me, precious droplets spilling down my chin. "Can't I have more?" I plead in shock and disappointment.

Cato nods at me and an impish smile forms on his lips. "I'll give you the entire canteen… if you kiss me."

I immediately scowl at him in disdain. "You think I'm some water whore or something?"

"No," he answers all too innocently. "I just know, cursed or not, you're still human. You want water. I want you to kiss me. I'd say that's a perfectly reasonable trade."

"You're a manipulative bastard," I grumble as I crawl closer to him. I try to keep as much space between us as possible while leaning in to connect our lips in a quick peck.

"Please," he scoffs. "I don't want you to kiss me like you would your grandmother. I want you to kiss me like you're _thirsty_."

"I'm _really_ thirsty," I mumble shamefully to him as I meet his gaze upon me.

"Then show me. _Prove it_," Cato whispers in lustful challenge.

A light sigh escapes me as I surrender to Cato's whims and gently lean in to taste his lips. I'm so thirsty, and in this moment Cato represents all that can quench and satiate my need. His lips are soft like I remember but the sensation is all new as I'm the one brushing lightly over them before deepening the kiss. Cato responds eagerly and moves his lips in synch with mine as his hand sneaks around my neck to grab a fistful of hair. Okay, maybe he's getting a little too eager.

I can feel him start to overpower me and push me down so I quickly pull away and bite my bottom lip in defense. "Hey now," I remind him. "You just said a kiss. A trade's a trade."

Cato stares me down, clearly worked up, for just a moment longer before honoring the deal with a smirk and handing me the canteen. I quickly take it and gulp its refreshing nectar down as I turn my back to him.

"I knew you'd be a damn good kisser," he remarks smugly. My only acknowledgement is a quick flip of the bird with my back still turned to him. Cato merely laughs with an air of self-satisfaction.

"That was hot," Marvel states as he appears out of nowhere. I jump and then blush when I realize he was watching us.

"What?" Marvel asks in defense when he sees my mortification. "I said I'd be back in a flash. But I didn't want to interrupt."

"Let's just eat," Cato orders, still smiling. "We're gonna have to get moving soon. I'll get you some real clothes to wear, Peeta, as soon as we make it to district 12."

"What?!" I cry, startling both Cato and Marvel. "No! You can't take me back to 12! I ran away! Those men you killed were from 12 too!"

"Oh, you're from 12!" Marvel exclaims, decidedly ignoring my freak-out. "We're on our way to see a man named Haymitch there. Do you know him?"

"Don't change the subject, Marvel!" I scold him exasperatingly. "Do you not get what I'm implying here? Those men Cato killed were from 12. I'm from 12. They were trying to kill me! You can't take me back there!"

"Relax," Cato dismisses as he caresses my cheek. God, I wanna punch him in his fucking face so bad right now. "We'll keep you covered up in that robe. Lots of people wear black cloaks. They won't realize it's off a dead man. I told you I'd keep you safe. And they don't know what I did. We'll be fine."

I'm feeling two seconds away from hyperventilating at the mere thought of going back to 12. I've stayed in control of myself pretty well the past few days but I don't trust what's inside of me to stay quiet much longer.

"I'm with Cato," Marvel agrees. "It'll be okay, Peeta. I just know it will. Now, please. Do you know of Haymitch Abernathy?"

I refocus. "Of course. Everybody knows Haymitch."

"So he's alive?" Cato presses, anxious yet relieved. "I have to talk with him, Peeta. It's important."

"He's kind of an _unusual_ man, to put it mildly," I inform. "What could possibly be so important to discuss with him?"

"I just need to talk to him, okay?" Cato states firmly. "He's the only one I know of that can give me answers."

"Answers to what?"

"The mutts," Cato replies. "The things that destroyed my district and are now after me."

"Cato's travelled all the way from 2," Marvel explains. "His entire district was burned with everyone inside and now these hellish monstrosities want to finish the job by killing him too."

"Why?" I gasp, horrified. This sounds like something my older brothers would purposely tell me right before bed when I was younger.

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Cato answers. "Marvel told me his grandmother visited your district years ago and spoke with Haymitch. He told her of these mutts. I'm here to speak with the man myself."

I'm beginning to piece together the puzzle of who Cato is and in this moment, I actually sympathize with the possessive brute. He has his own demons to face, but they're on the outside. And the look on his face tells me he's not going down without a fight. It looks like I don't have a choice. I really am going back to 12.


	6. Rock and a Hard Place

**SakuraDrops414- Why thank you. They're heading into 12 now, so we'll see what happens!**

**swishyla- I'm not sure yet who all I want to include, but I think some of those names you mentioned will make an appearance.**

**AlecCole- Thank you, I will! I love those scenes, too. I say the more awkward, the better :)**

**Your Failing Epicness- I actually think it would be awesomely bold to kill Peeta so early in a Cato/Peeta fanfic. Hmm…**

**JacksonTheGreat- Hahaha, gotta love a good tease!**

**Ruid- I'm glad you found it interesting. I'm looking forward to those scenes too ;)**

* * *

_Peeta's POV_

I finish breakfast while Marvel packs up and Cato puts out the fire. We travel through the woods towards my home, me in between the two older boys. We find ourselves ending up on the edge of a river that runs through the forest. A waterfall is just to the left of us and Marvel lights up.

"Sweet!" He exclaims.

"We just have to cross to the other side and then walk a few more hours to get to district 12," I declare.

"I think we should make a stop here to wash up," Marvel suggests excitedly. "Wouldn't want to arrive in 12 looking like a bunch of vagabonds, now would we?"

"Yes, let's get cleaned up," Cato agrees as he looks down at me. "I want to get that paint washed off you Peeta before we get there."

Without wasting a second more, Marvel strips and rushes right into the water and swims for the falls. When he disappears behind it, Cato turns to face me and takes off my cloak. I stand before him, naked again, while he sets his sword down and starts taking off his own clothes. I make an obvious effort not to stare, but find myself peaking from the corner of my eye as he reveals his amazing body. I knew he had muscles under there, but my imagination just didn't do him justice.

"Come on," he says as he takes my hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."

We wade out into deeper water where it reaches halfway up my abdomen. The water cools my hot skin and tortured wrists. I hold my breath and duck below the surface, letting the river consume me. As I resurface, I turn to face Cato just as he dips below the surface too. When he comes up for air, he approaches me, gawking at my dripping-wet frame. He runs his thumb across my bottom lip as his other hand glides up my arm. He starts rubbing my body, loosening the leftover paint those men put on me and washing it away. He turns me around to get my back and I find his touch incredibly soothing. It's like a massage as he rubs over every muscle to clear away the writing. I let a tiny sigh escape my lips and I suddenly feel Cato's lips kissing my shoulder and trailing up my neck. His hand runs through my scalp and it feels amazing. I fight to keep quiet, not wanting him to know he's making me feel good. But then his other hand dips beneath the water to my manhood and I can't help but let out a gasp at the sensation. I try to move away but his one hand leaves my hair and wraps around my chest to keep me still. He's incredibly strong.

"Relax," Cato whispers in my ear, followed with a quick nibble. "It's just a hand job."

"I don't care what it is," I hiss, still struggling to escape his grasp.

Cato spins me around to face him and grabs both my arms, tight, to pull me close to him. His fingers painfully dig into my biceps but I also feel his dick poking me in the belly button.

"You don't get it, do you?" he growls. "This isn't up for debate. You're mine and I'll do whatever the fuck I want."

Cato crashes his lips to mine and his hands dig further into my arms, causing my lips to part as I yelp out in pain. He takes advantage of this and his tongue invades my mouth. I feel the urge to bite down, but his hands could easily drag my body down below the surface and drown me for such insolence. Finally, he lets go of my arms and when I don't take a swing at him, he wraps one hand around my back and the other reaches below to grab me down there again. He moves me with him as he thrusts against my stomach while stroking my hardening dick. He never breaks our kiss until a moan escapes my lips. He pulls back then and watches my expressions with satisfaction as I can't help but revel in the feeling of his hand beneath the water, pleasuring me. My mind is screaming at me to fight this domineering brute, but my body insists that I come for him, letting him know just what he's doing to me. I shiver when my climax hits and he kisses me as I moan into his mouth. I can feel the smile forming on his lips.

"Fuck," Cato whispers as he stares at me, mesmerized. His hands travel to my ass and he picks me up just enough in the water to where I can't touch the bottom anymore. I instinctively wrap my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck to stay afloat. Truth is, I can't swim. He squeezes my ass and kisses my neck and then I feel one of his hands leave my cheek to grab his own rock-solid member. He pleasures himself to my body and I hide my face in the crook of his neck, thoroughly mortified. Luckily, it doesn't take him long to come.

"Now," he says, satisfied for the time being, "let's finish cleaning you up."

I hold perfectly still now, embarrassed and unable to maintain any sort of eye contact, as Cato washes the evidence of his work and the last remnants of paint off my body. He quickly scrubs himself down and then leaves me in the water while he goes back to the bank to fetch everyone's stuff. He wades back to me and we get out on the other side of the river to dress.

"Marvel!" Cato calls out as he puts the cloak back on me. "We're going now! Get your ass out here!"

Marvel bursts out from the waterfall and makes his way over to us and scrambles into his clothes.

"All clean!" he beams. "I'm ready to take on the world!"

"Okay, sunshine," Cato smirks. "Good to know. Now let's get movin'."

The next couple hours are spent trekking through the woods while Marvel tells stories about people and places I've never heard of. Cato laces his fingers through mine and every so often, he lifts my hand to kiss it. I just do my best to ignore it. Soon we see the peaks of the buildings that make up district 12. I quickly put up my hood to hide my face.

"I know where Haymitch lives," I tell them. "We don't even have to stop and talk to anybody. Let's just make a dash straight for his house."

"Agreed," Cato remarks. "We go straight to Haymitch."

The three of us travel into the district and try to be as inconspicuous as possible, but any stranger arriving into 12 is bound to turn heads, especially when two of them are carrying weapons. The whole village square is abuzz about the five missing men and the baker's son. Marvel does all the talking, insisting that "we three foreigners" didn't run into anyone on our journey into 12. We eventually succeed in making our way to Haymitch's only to find no one home.

"He's not here," a familiar voice calls out to us as we stand awkwardly at the doorstep. I turn to see my friend, Katniss, approaching us. I quickly turn back to conceal myself behind my hood.

"What do you mean, 'he's not here'?" Cato snaps, frustrated but finally letting go of my hand.

"I mean exactly what I said," Katniss snaps right back. "He left in the middle of the night to travel to district 4. Apparently a good friend of his there sent word of something bad that's happened and he went to help."

"Well that's just fuckin' fantastic," Cato fumes. "Where the hell is district 4?"

"With that piss poor attitude, you can go find it yourself," Katniss sneers. Cato takes an aggressive step towards her and I immediately lunge to put myself in between the two.

"She's a friend, Cato," I speak calmly as I remove my hood and face her. I can feel Cato tensing up behind me.

"Peeta!," he snaps, grabbing my forearm and yanking me back towards him. "Put your hood back up! Now!"

But it was too late. "Peeta!" Katniss cries. "You're alive!"

"Shhh!" I hiss, putting my hood back up before anyone else sees. I sense Cato's tension subsiding a little. "As far as anyone's concerned, I'm not."

"Peeta, what happened? The butcher, the blacksmith, the other men?" she presses further, casting suspicious glances in Cato's direction. "Word is you just disappeared so they went looking for you. When they disappeared too, everyone started talking and now the whole district knows about your curse. Did you- did you kill those men? I mean, did _'__it' _kill them?"

She looks deeply concerned, hurt, and frightened. It makes me feel bad. I know I can trust her. I pull her to the side of Haymitch's property, away from prying eyes, and Cato and Marvel follow closely behind.

"They tried to kill me, Katniss" I explain. "There's an old stone altar out in the wilderness that I'm sure they've been using for decades. Who knows how many 'afflicted' souls have been slaughtered out there? I was just trying to run away to protect you and everyone else from my curse. But they still hunted me down and tried to add my body to the list. But I didn't kill them. I swear."

"Then what happened?" she pleads desperately.

"I did," Cato interrupts. "I killed them." His stoic expression suggests he wasn't the least bit sorry.

"How dare you!" she thundered, fist balled in fury. "Those were good men!"

"Good men, my ass!" Cato scolded back. "They had Peeta naked and bound to stone, trying to gouge out his heart!"

I could see the hot tears rising in Katniss' grey Seam eyes as she fought the battle in her own heart. Finally, she looked at me in pity.

"Oh, Peeta," she whispers, distraught but unable to argue any further. "I can't ignore the crazy shit that's been revolving around you, but I'd give anything to keep you from ending up like Madge."

"What happened to Madge?" Cato interrupts again, his jaw rigid as he moves closer to me. The silence that passes is answer enough. I see a flash of wild desperation and fury spark in his eyes.

"Maybe someone in 4 can help Peeta with his 'affliction'," Marvel offers in attempt to calm Cato.

"All the more reason to get to 4 as soon as possible," Cato agrees, grabbing my hand and dragging me away from Katniss.

"Stop!" Katniss yells. "Peeta?" she speaks my name like a question, her eyes darting between Cato and Marvel. I know what she's implying without having to really ask it. She's concerned and distrustful of these two boys beside me.

"I'll be okay. Cato will help me," I insist to her, decidedly protecting her from the truth that I don't have any choice in the matter.

"So, _Cato_?" Katniss says, turning her attention back to the murderous and towering boy. "By the look of your sword and your apparent bloodlust, you are district 2, I presume."

"I guess my home's reputation precedes me," Cato smirks menacingly, his hand instinctively wrapping around the hilt of his blade when she mentioned it.

"And who are you?" Katniss demands as she turns to Marvel, eying his spear. "And just how did you two get involved with Peeta?"

"The name's Marvel, miss," Marvel declares with a certain charm. "From district 1. Just traveling along to give Cato a hand when he found your friend, Peeta, between a rock and a hard place."

"Literally," Cato mumbles heatedly, no doubt thinking of me caught in the middle of a stone altar and a crazy man's dagger.

I see the wheels of suspicion turning in Katniss's head and I'm praying she doesn't try to run and tell everyone I'm here. I can't see that situation ending well. Cato is determined to get to Haymitch and he's determined to take me with him. Anyone who gets in his way will probably end up like those slain men now rotting in the woods. I shudder as I picture my family and friends. The darkness within, though, craves the imagery and it makes me taste bile in my throat. Finally, Katniss speaks.

"There's an old woman, Greasy Sae, who surely knows the way to any district," she tells the two boys. Oh, yes. Greasy Sae. "She even has a couple horses to aid you on your journey. Let me tell her the situation and I'm sure she'll saddle you up. She's always liked you, Peeta. I know if I tell her you're here, she won't rat you out or hang you from the rafters of the hob."

"We can't take her horses," I object. "It's too much to ask of that poor woman. And what if people find out she helped me?"

"She would insist, Peeta. Just bring them back with you when you beat this thing," Katniss declares with a stiff upper lip.

We follow Katniss to the hob and watch from the shadows as she bargains with Greasy Sae. Marvel walks around, distracting customers and finding me some normal clothes, while Cato wraps an arm around me and makes sure I'm concealed from prying eyes. I can see Greasy Sae's head jerk up and look at me at one point, her face full of a hard life's struggle and understanding. She's always been good to me. I know she's probably furious about what's happening to me. She urgently hands Katniss hastily written directions to 4 as well as keys to her stable before looking at me and fiercely nodding. The four of us walk away and disappear from the hob without anyone the wiser. The moment I walk into the stable, though, the horses go wild. They must sense what's in me.

"Animals are very sensitive creatures," Marvel informs.

"Peeta will ride with me," Cato commands. "I can keep them under control long enough to get us to 4."

I stand in the corner, distancing myself from the creatures so they stay calm long enough for two of them to get saddled up. Marvel mounts his and Katniss pets Cato's horse soothingly while Cato helps me on. The horse is tense, but it doesn't buck. It trusts Katniss and Cato. Cato gets on behind me and wraps his arms around me to reach the reigns. Before we take off, Katniss deliberately stands in front of our horse, blocking the exit.

"I don't like you, Cato," she starts, holding her ground. "I see the way you look at him and touch him. But Peeta's got worse problems than you right now and I can't leave my little sister to help him. I feel like shit for leaving him alone with you, but I'm trusting my instincts that you at least care enough about him to fix this. You better bring him back here, safe and sound, or I'm going to have to come looking for you. Don't make me do that."

Cato stares her down and his arms hold me tighter, but eventually he nods. "I respect that. But know this; your instincts are right. I care more than you could possibly know. As long as I'm breathing, Peeta will be safe. Now, if you don't mind moving outta the way, we've got a man to speak to in 4."

Katniss gives me one last look of remorse before stepping to the side and Marvel, Cato, and I ride straight out of 12 at full speed. I turn my head and take one last look at my home, hoping it really isn't the last.

"I meant what I said," Cato tells me over the rush of wind and galloping hooves. "No harm will come to you. I'll protect you."

"Stop saying things like that," I scold him. "You can't promise people that kind of stuff."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because you can't possibly know what's gonna happen. You can't promise tomorrow. You don't know what the future holds. You don't even know the dangers you face this very moment."

"_This very moment_?" he repeats with inquiry.

"They're coming for you," I tremble, my voice so low it doesn't sound like me. "It tells me so."


	7. Malevolent Hunter

**CupcakeSprinkles14- Don't die on me, please! Let this next chapter revive you :)**

**Evilstrawberry- Haha, your reviews are too funny. I have a personal affinity for cliffhangers.**

**SakuraDrops141- Thank you. I have some ideas I want to try out for four and it involves running into quite a few familiar faces…**

**Keyblade Master13- I'm glad you're excited. And upon your request, I'll do my best not to forget it ;)**

**Your Failing Epicness- For you, I won't kill off Peeta, lol. And please, feel free to giggle all you want. Plus, there's more than mutts coming for Cato…**

* * *

The sea is merciless towards the tiny vessel as the storm rages on, waves crashing violently against the sides of the ship. With the terrified passengers in safety below deck, a young man, the hood of his cloak concealing him in darkness, stands alone at the bow of the ship. His eyes are fixated on the horizon.

"Young man!" the captain yells over the roar of the storm. "It's not safe to be on deck right now! The waves will take you!"

The cloaked man does not answer. The captain can't recall this mysterious stranger ever boarding his ship, but regardless, he braves the elements and warily makes his way across the deck to help him.

"Young man, did you hear me? You should get below deck with the rest of the passengers before the sea sweeps you away!"

"I do not fear the sea," the man dismisses.

"The sea does not care if you fear her or not, young lad. She takes what she pleases with no regret. No mortal man is above the wrath of the sea."

The cloaked man slowly turns to face the captain. "Well if only mortal men are vulnerable to her wrath, then I am fine where I stand."

The mysterious stranger removes his hood to reveal bronze locks that frame his tanned and flawless face. His eyes of sea-foam green bore holes straight into the captain's very soul. The man is perfect; too perfect. The wind suddenly picks up the edges of his cloak, revealing a silver trident at his side. Despite the enigmatic man's exquisite appearance, he sends chills of horror straight to the captain's bones.

"Who are you," the captain trembles. "_What_ are you?"

"They call me 'Finnick,'" the man speaks. "And I am searching for a boy; a lone survivor from district 2. His name is Cato. I know you recently gave him passage on your ship."

"I have so many passengers that come and go on my ship. I do not know their names," the captain replies. Truth be told, the captain indeed remembers Cato and hearing of his tragic tale. But he doesn't trust to tell that to this wickedly handsome creature before him.

Finnick sees right through the captain's lies and descends upon the portly man with impressive speed and aggression. His hands wrap effortlessly around the captain's neck to dangle him carelessly off the side of the ship.

"Do not lie to me, you insolent wretch!" Finnick hisses. "You know him. I can see it in your eyes. Now tell me where he was headed to before I snap your neck and cast your corpse out to sea!"

The distressed captain struggles for breath as the rain soaks him to the bone, giving him a taste of what waits for him in the waters below. The old seafarer, too good of a man to sell out a comrade, knows his time is up. "Never, you vile beast! Leave the poor boy be!" he chokes out to the creature. "What do you even want with him?"

"What do I want?" Finnick repeats with a devilish grin. "I want him dead; his body reduced to ashes." And with that, he snaps the brave captain's neck and lets the sea swallow his lifeless body in darkness...

* * *

_Cato's POV_

The relentless stomping of hooves as we ride to 4 matches the wild rhythm of my heart when Peeta speaks to me. "_They're coming for you_," he said. "_It tells me so_."

Peeta's voice isn't his. It carries a resonance beyond ages. I hold him close to me and tilt his head back to look into his eyes. Those blue eyes; they're gone, the sapphire irises consumed by the black coal of his pupils.

"Whoa!" I call out to my horse to slow her down. She rears a little and whinnies but quickly slows to a halt. I immediately jump off and grab Peeta. His body is rigid in my arms but I hold him to me, staring him down. His black eyes; they don't blink. It feels like eternity passes, but he never blinks once. It's creeping me the fuck out.

Marvel has ridden about 100 yards ahead before realizing I stopped and quickly gallops back to find me worriedly and frustratingly shaking Peeta.

"It's taken hold of him," I shriek to Marvel. "What do I do?"

"He's catatonic," Marvel states. "We have to call him back to us."

"Peeta!" I scream as I continue shaking him. His body is stiff and unyielding.

"Peeta!" Marvel tries as he splashes some cold water from his canteen on Peeta's face. It isn't working and I'm losing it.

"Let go of him dammit!" I roar as I stare dead into his charcoal eyes, directly challenging whatever it is I'm staring at. "I said LET GO!"

Peeta suddenly gasps and his body goes limp in my arms. He's out and I carry him further away from the horses that are now sufficiently losing their shit. Marvel holds onto their reigns as I lift Peeta's closed eyelids to find that beautiful blue I thought I'd never see again. It's then I notice _my_ eyes. They're blurry and wet. I quickly turn my head before Marvel sees them glistening. I can feel Peeta stir in my arms.

"Cato?" he mumbles as he looks around in confusion. "Are we in 4? Where's Haymitch?"

"We're not in 4 yet," I tell him, stoically, as I stand him up. "I decided to stop here and camp for the night. You fell asleep."

"Oh," is all he says, unaware of what just transpired. I look over to Marvel and give him a warning glance to keep his big mouth shut.

We tie up the horses on a nearby tree and build a fire. Marvel leaves to hunt down some grub while I keep an eye on Peeta. He's dressed now in the clothes Marvel got for him at the Hob. Looking at Peeta in this moment, you'd never guess anything was wrong. But I've now seen for myself just a glimpse of the shit that Peeta's been facing. Am I going to lose him soon? Reality has a way of biting you in the ass and leaving you feeling helpless. Too bad the word "helpless" isn't in my vocabulary.

"I wasn't really sleeping, was I?" Peeta suddenly breaks the silence as he continues to stare straight into the fire.

"No," I confess calmly.

"I didn't do anything bad, did I?"

"No," I assure him. "You just kind of shut down and your eyes went black. You snapped out of it. You're okay now."

"No I'm not," he whispers. His eyes follow the dancing flames of the fire, almost spellbound by its fury. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Peeta would jump right in.

I crawl over to Peeta and push him down on the cold forest floor. My hand caresses his flushed cheek as I hover over him. I bend down and kiss him, willing the evil to jump into me and leave Peeta alone. It doesn't, of course. It knows it can destroy me much easier if it stays in Peeta and tortures him too. My rage starts to emanate outwards and I find myself getting a little aggressive with Peeta beneath me. I've never been one to control my emotions and I don't even notice that I've bitten Peeta's lip until he speaks up.

"Cato, that hurts," he whines. I open my eyes to see the trickle of blood that marks his chin. My hands have seemingly taken on a mind of their own and have slithered up his shirt to dig into his waist. Red marks were already forming. I quickly sit up and let go of him.

"I'm just pissed off," I fume.

"I've noticed," he agrees with a little venom, still lying on the ground but looking up at me. At least I got his attention away from the fire. Peeta's studying me now, licking his wounded lip. "I'm more trouble then I'm worth, you know," he states. "You have enough trouble of your own to worry about, Cato. If you'd just let me go, it would be one less problem to plague you."

"Shut up," I seethe, my anger building up again. "You're not a 'problem.' I don't want to hear you saying shit like that."

"But it's true!" he cries suddenly as he shoots up to face me, eyes shining with a light mist. "Seriously, who am I to you? Someone to stick your tongue down his throat when you're feeling lonely? How the hell is that worth all of _this_? Worth those men you killed? I'm damned, Cato! I'm no good! I ran away to spare my loved ones from all this shit and you're willing to walk right through it! For what? To get your rocks off? If that's the case, there's plenty of _normal_ people in Panem you can control. You're a fool. Whatever it is you want from me, it's not worth it. _I'm _not worth it! Do you hear me, Cato? You're a damn fool!"

And just like that... I snap. A growl rips from my throat as I lunge to push Peeta violently back onto the ground and sit on him. My hands grip his shoulders in a death hold, pinning him down. I hate that Peeta thinks this way, hate that he sees me like that, sees himself like that. I hate that he's said those things to me with such certainty and resignation.

"I'm a fool, huh?" I roar down at him as I shake him. "_You_ think you're fucking worthless!? _You're_ the fool!" All I get in return is silence. Seething, I want to just take Peeta right here, show him that I don't care what he thinks of me or what he thinks of himself. _He's_ the fool. He's just looking up at me now with such animosity in his eyes and I'm ready, now more than ever, to make him submit. My knees pin his arms down while I loosen my belt. He turns his face away in contempt and I quickly grab him by the jaw and force him to look at me. I'm livid.

"Look at me!" I scream as my fingers dig into Peeta's jaw. The mist in his eyes glistens tenfold when he narrows them at me. "You think you're no good?" I thunder through gritted teeth. "Think you're not worth a damn?" I feel the blood pulsating through my veins as it boils in outrage. I feel it pulsating down below, too. "Then what the fuck am I waiting for? Maybe I need to make you see!" I grunt as I thrust my hips heatedly into Peeta's groin.

I'm practically foaming at the mouth now when, suddenly… he breaks. An angry sob bursts from Peeta's chest and his eyes betray him as the mist turns to tears and he begins to cry. An unfamiliar jolt of, electricity is the best way I can describe it, shoots through my body at the sight. I feel... pain. The hurt cuts through the rage and I release Peeta's jaw from my death grip. He doesn't know what he's doing to me. Fuck, I don't know what he's doing to me.

"Go ahead!" Peeta screams through the tears. "Just do whatever the fuck you want! I don't fucking care! This body isn't even mine anymore! Why should I give a shit what you do with it? Use it, abuse it, it makes no difference now!"

Peeta's cheeks are flushed a deep scarlet from his outburst and the tears mar his beautiful face. He's broken. Isn't this, in a way, what I was just hoping for? I mean, I was two seconds away from breaking him myself and making him submit to me, but now, seeing him shattered like this, giving up, all I want to do is fix it. What is happening? What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Stop it," I order him, weakly. I'm pathetic.

"What do you care?" he sneers at me through his sobbing.

"Just stop it," I repeat, fiercer this time. I'm getting upset.

"Why?" he pleads angrily, desperately. "Who am I to you?"

"You're everything!" I break and scream. Fuck. The last bit of air escapes my lungs at the shock of what just came out of my mouth. I gasp to draw it back in and desperately search Peeta's eyes, wide with surprise, to see my reflection within. I mimic his own shock and solace. I move my knees off Peeta's arms and look down at the ground, affected by my own declaration. All that remains is a whisper. "You're all I have left."

A part of me wants to shake Peeta more or, hell, punch him in the face for putting me into this whirlwind of a mess that I can't comprehend. Instead, I prepare myself to absorb the blow that is sure to come. Silence follows as we both calm down until Peeta finally speaks.

"It's not much," he whispers back.

I look to him as a sigh of frustration escapes me. Peeta's got a spark in him that is all his own, he clearly just doesn't see it like I do. "Do you really think that little of yourself?" I question in disbelief.

Peeta's tears have subsided and all that remains is a precious quiver of his lips. He sighs. "I just don't think there's a way out for me. I can't avoid what's happening. Fate has spoken. It would be best for everyone if you just let go." Peeta can't even look me in the eyes when he says this.

"I disagree," I tell him, reaching for his cheek to bring his face to mine, gently this time. We're both battling our own evils and I refuse to let either one win. "It's fate that I found you, Peeta. I had never ventured from my district my entire life, and somehow I ended up all the way in the woods outside of 12 just in time to save you. Say what you will, but that's fate. You were meant to be mine. I'll save you."

"What if I'm not yours?" Peeta challenges, now peering his sapphire eyes into mine. "Maybe fate brought you to me because I'm supposed to be your demise; your undoing."

"You? Being my undoing? Well, then. That's not such a bad way to go," I smile with a shrug.

"I'm being serious," he rebukes.

I bend down to him and pull his head back to kiss his throat. "I am too."

Peeta tears himself away from my grasp to look up at me with sheer exasperation. He can't understand my mood swings, my stubbornness… or my relentless lust. It's eating away at him and that makes me suddenly curious.

"Why are you so bothered by my decision to keep you?" I inquire, still hovering above him. "If you really think you'll end up getting me killed, you should be perfectly okay with this arrangement. Finishing me off would be the perfect revenge for me holding you against your will."

"I don't… I don't want you to die" Peeta reluctantly replies with a light blush. "I don't want anybody else to die because of me."

This makes me smile and I rub the tearstains off his face. "You're still _you,_" I say. "And that's worth fighting for. When all this is over, you and I will both be rid of our evils, souls intact. You'll see. Things will be good again."

"I just want to _feel_ good again," he whispers solemnly up at me. I know what he meant, but still sitting on top of him, that phrase has other things popping up into my head. I know how to make him feel a different kind of good.

"I can do that for you," I speak seductively into his ear as I descend to take a nibble. My mouth moves along Peeta's jawline and I suck tenderly at his neck. My hands creep back under his shirt, softer this time, to knead the tension away in his muscles. His breath is steady, relaxed, and I slowly move my hands down to unbutton his pants. It's then Peeta tenses up and his chest rises and falls in rapid succession. But he knows better now than to struggle. I gently tug his pants and underwear down to find my prize.

"Cato," he trembles nervously. I put a finger up to his lips.

"Shhh," I quiet him. "Relax. It's not what you think. You'll like it. I promise."


	8. How it All Fell Apart

**CupcakeSprinkles14- I could never hate you! 3 But you know very well by now how I just love my cliffhangers. Such a dysfunctional relationship lol.**

**SakuraDrops141- Yay! I'm so glad you liked it. I feel like I'm writing myself into a corner here and I'm not sure where all this will end up, but I know there'll be more emotion to come. RIP Captain.**

**Your Failing Epicness- I sure hope I can crank out more intense chapters. Yes, let's all take a moment to drool over Cato. So sexy. And as far as the mystery behind Finnick, I guess all I can say is that you just have to keep reading :)**

**JacksonTheGreat- Thank you for the wonderful review. I think it has become a personal mission of mine to be a tease whenever possible. Sadistic, I know.**

* * *

_Peeta's POV_

I watch his hands, expecting them to reach for my cock like back at the river, but my breath hitches when I feel his mouth there instead. His lips envelope around my tip and his tongue dances along the underside. I can't help but throw my head back in pleasure.

I've never felt a sensation like this before, the warmth and gentle friction of his tongue gliding along me. A helpless moan escapes my throat, and I can feel Cato smile smugly against my thigh. He takes more of me into his mouth and when he sucks, the pressure drives me to buck my hips up into him. My vision's blurring and I feel like I'm falling off the face of the earth so I grip desperately into Cato's hair to keep me grounded. This only seems to push him further and his eager ministrations have me melting, forcing a small whine past my lips. Cato lightly chuckles at this while he works, and the vibrations send hot sparks through every nerve in my body. I wasn't prepared for this. I can't hold back. My back arches high as the wave crashes.

"Cato!" I breathlessly hiss as I explode, every muscle in my body rigid. Through the blinding ecstasy, I can still feel Cato's mouth taking me, but his hands are now gripping my waist tightly, keeping my back frozen up in my orgasm-induced arch. He won't let me come back down to earth. My high starts to slowly settle and all I can do is stare at the stars while I feel his lips let go of me only to kiss my hips and up my stomach. Finally, he gently sets my waist back down on the soil and looks at me, entranced.

"Told you you'd like it," he purrs. "And you taste even better than I'd imagined." I'm too overwhelmed to bite back at his embarrassing comment and I see him start to tug on his own pants but the sound of someone approaching sobers me quickly and I scramble underneath Cato to pull my pants up.

Marvel comes back to camp with game in hand and he stops short when he takes in the site of Cato and I. I know I have dirt and twigs entangled in my hair and, glancing over at Cato, I see him wearing a stupid grin of self-satisfaction on his face. His hair is disheveled after the way I gripped and ran my hands through it. Marvel puts two and two together and starts hootin' and hollerin'.

"Shut up, Marvel," Cato snickers, good-humoredly. "You're gonna wake up the entire forest with that mouth of yours."

"I think your mouth has been doing way more interesting things than mine, my friend."

Cato just shakes his head, still wearing his stupid grin, while I'm over here choking on embarrassment.

"Why don't we just get supper started?" I offer desperately with still-flushed cheeks.

I cook up the rabbits Marvel hunted and we eat in peace amidst the crackling campfire. I dare not speak of the thrill my heart felt when I skinned the animals and watched the blood spill as I prepared them. I know that wasn't me. I simply smile at Marvel and thank him for the food and keep my gaze from Cato's, afraid he'll notice me struggling. He seems intently tuned into every expression and twitch of my body, so it surprises me when Marvel's the one who speaks up.

"Peeta?" he softly calls to me. Cato perks up.

"Yes, Marvel?" I answer.

"It's been gnawing at me for too long now. Your friend, Katniss, said she didn't want you ending up like _Madge_. I know I'm being insensitive here, but I just have to know. What exactly happened to that girl? And more pressing yet, what exactly happened to you?"

A labored breath heaves out of my lungs as I knew the question was bound to come up sooner or later. I knew they would eventually demand more of my story. I look hesitantly at Marvel and then at Cato to see them both miserably failing at feigning patience.

"It all began 2 weeks ago. Madge's father told everyone she was sick. Said she couldn't go outside and was too ill for visitors. But she wasn't sick. She was cursed. Katniss and our other friend, Gale, and I snuck in to see her for ourselves and who we saw wasn't her. It had consumed her. It spoke to me before… before…" the shivers that descend down me are so intense the story gets caught in my throat.

"Please, Peeta," Marvel encourages. As I continue, the memory of that night comes flooding back…

* * *

Gale expertly maneuvers the kitchen window open and he, Katniss, and I crawl our way into the Undersee household. The entire place is pitch-black as we creep through the empty hallways and ascend the stairs.

"Something doesn't feel right," I whisper.

"Of course it doesn't," Katniss hisses. "That's why we're here. Madge is supposedly 'sick,' yet her father refuses to let my mother or any other healers see her."

"That's not what I meant," I hiss right back. "I mean I get the feeling we're headed for some deep shit."

"I feel a little uneasy myself, Peeta," Gale agrees. "We'll just peek our heads into her room to make sure she's at least alive and then we'll get the hell out of here."

As the three of us make our way down the upstairs hallway, we see light coming from the crack in Madge's doorway. There's voices.

_"We can't keep this up much longer. The townspeople are getting suspicious."_

_"I know, I know, darling! I just don't know what else to do! If anyone finds out, you know as well as I what they'll do to her." _

Suddenly, Madge's door opens and the sources of the voices, her parents, walk out distraught. Gale yanks Katniss and me into the bathroom to hide as they walk past and head downstairs.

"Come on," Katniss urges us. "Now's our chance."

The three of us tiptoe down to Madge's room and, warily, I'm the one who opens the door. As I enter, I stop short when I get a good look. It's Madge, one wrist shackled to the iron bed frame, sitting in a contorted fetal position on the pillows. Her hair is wild and she looks utterly emaciated. I'm extremely upset at the sight. I can hear Gale and Katniss gasp when they peek their heads around me to see.

"Madge?" I whimper as I move a little closer.

Her neck slowly strains towards my direction, but I can't make out her face behind her disheveled locks. Suddenly, the door behind me slams, shutting out Katniss and Gale. I bolt to the door and yank on the handle. It won't budge.

"Peeta!" Katniss cries from the outside. "We can't open the door!"

"Shh!" I scold her, afraid Mr. and Mrs. Undersee will hear. "Just stay put. I'll see if I can climb out the window."

As I turn back around, Madge is still facing my direction. Underneath her mess of tangled hair, she grins.

"Well aren't you a precious thing?" she calls out to me.

"Excuse me?" I ask, greatly confused. It's her voice, but Madge has never talked so… weird.

She cocks her head to the side with a smirk and speaks. "Madge is screaming at me right now to leave you alone. Says you are a good boy. Are you a good boy, _Peeta_?"

Chills run down my spine as understanding slowly creeps in. My breathing's ragged as I fearfully clarify, "I'm not speaking to Madge, am I?"

"We have ourselves a winner!" the thing in Madge's body maniacally teases.

My skin is crawling and I'm dying to run, but I know now that this "thing" was the culprit that locked me in here. When fear sets in, the natural response is "fight or flight." Well, flight isn't an option at the moment.

"Look, whatever you are, you need to leave Madge alone," I try to demand boldly, but my trembling voice betrays me. "You've done enough damage. You're clearly killing her. Let her go."

This evil thing just stares me down and I can take full notice now of its black eyes consuming Madge's once baby blues. Her thin lip twitches and if I didn't know any better, I'd say it looked like it was calculating something. Finally, she curls her lips up into the most devilish and twisted expression I've ever seen and those black eyes lock on mine. I know then my intuition was right. She was calculating something and she's just made up her mind. The door suddenly clicks and opens.

"Peeta," Katniss begins, but I stop her short.

"We need to get the fuck out of here now," I press, violently shoving her and Gale down the hall. They don't put up a fight when they see the wild terror in my eyes. When we sneak back out the kitchen window, I tell them what transpired and they both can only look at me with horror. Without another word, the three of us run home, terrified, like the children we are.

It's later that night in my bedroom, the air's chill but I keep my window open, as always. The breeze feels good as it makes the curtains dance. In my bed, I lie awake, waiting for sleep to take me when I hear my mother call me from downstairs in the kitchen.

"Peeeetaaa," she calls to me so uncharacteristically sweet and so softly I almost don't hear her. "Come to me."

I have no clue what she needs, or why she's still downstairs this late at night, but her voice is so gentle and coaxing, I feel completely obliged to go to her. I leave my room to venture into the darkness of the hallway and as I reach the top of the staircase, I can see candlelight from the kitchen below. And sure enough, my mother calls to me again, louder and more persistently this time.

"Peeta, come to me."

"I am, mother," I reply as I descend the stairs. That's when I hear my mother again… in my parents' bedroom across the hall, back upstairs.

"Peeta, did you just call me?" she asks from her room.

My feet become stone as I stand, paralyzed, on the stairwell. What is happening? If my mother's in her bedroom, what the hell is downstairs calling to me as her? As realization sets it, panic breaks through the crippling fear and I turn to run straight for my room when the light goes out in the kitchen below, a low growl ripping its way through the darkness. As I race down the hall, I can hear the steps creak with weighted haste and I know it's right behind me. I slam and lock my door just as something approaches it with full impact. The bang it instills against the door is enough to force me onto the ground. It keeps banging as I cling to my knees in terror. After what seems like eternity, everything just stops. Silence. The only sound is the thrumming of my dizzying heartbeat ringing in my ears. Suddenly, the door handle jiggles.

"Leave me alone!" I scream.

"Peeta!" my father yells. "What is going on? Open the door!"

Relief courses through me at his voice, but then the possibility of it being another trap creeps into my thoughts.

"I'll open it if you stick your hand under the door so I know it's you," I challenge.

"Peeta, what has gotten into you?" he asks, exasperated, but he sighs and gives in and I see his left hand poke out from underneath the door. I study his swollen knuckles and faded wedding band. It's him.

"I'm sorry, father. I thought someone broke into the house," I lie when I open the door. I know he can see me shaking.

"What were you doing banging on your door?" he asks. By now, my mother and both my brothers are out in the hall, irritated.

"I wasn't," I tell him earnestly.

"Look, it's too late at night to be dealing with this nonsense," my mother interrupts, waving her hands wildly in the air. "Everyone back to bed. Peeta, I don't wanna hear another peep out of you the rest of the night."

"Yes, mam," I surrender.

The entire night is spent frozen to the far corner of my bed as shadows and voices plague me. It's all too clear what I've done. I brought it home with me.

The morning can't come quickly enough as I hear father rustling downstairs opening the bakery. I eagerly rush to help him and begin baking with my brothers. It's barely noon when my father takes me aside.

"Peeta," My father begins, softly. "I've just received word from your friend, Delly, that Madge Undersee passed away last night."

"I know," I murmur.

"You know?" my dad repeats, confused.

I start stumbling over my words. "I, I mean that I had a feeling she wouldn't make it. You know, her father kept saying she was just so sick."

"Oh, yes," he buys the excuse. "Well, anyway, I'm terribly sorry, son."

"Me too," I whisper, for more reasons than one.


	9. The Chase

**Your Failing Epicness- Yes, this story has a strange mixture of romance and creep WTF moments that I find myself not quite understanding, even as I write it lol. But I'm glad you still like it!**

**SakuraDrops141- Thank you! Hopefully these backstories shed more light on Peeta's character in this fanfic.**

**JacksonTheGreat- Ooh, entrancing. I like that. Thank you so much!**

**CupcakeSprinkles14- Hehe, Demon Madge was fun to do. Glad you liked it.**

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_Cato's POV_

As Peeta explains how his life went to shit, it makes me feel like I've already failed him, which of course just leaves me angry. It seems Peeta was really just in the wrong place at the wrong time. This demon saw him and liked what it saw. It preyed on him. But, then again, I have, in a way, done the same thing. But I'm not out to kill him. It's the opposite, really.

"So the demon took Madge's life and moved onto you?" Marvel states as more of an affirmation than a question.

"Yes," Peeta answered. "It only got worse as word spread through the district that Madge didn't make it through the night. I just kept picturing that wicked smile twisted on her face the night before. I know now it made that face because it had run its course with Madge and picked its next target. I hate myself for that. It's because of me Madge is dead. If I just listened to my gut and stayed away-"

"Then it would have found someone else to attach to after it took Madge's soul," I finished. "It's not your fault."

Peeta offers a weak smile, acknowledging the truth but still feeling too guilty to fully accept it.

"Okay, so now you know you've just been cursed," Marvel recaps. "How did those men Cato killed find out about it?"

"Weird things began to happen around me," Peeta tells him. "Plus," my young baker pauses, biting his lower lip, "they suspected I was the one that set the justice building on fire."

"You what?!" Marvel chokes on a piece of rabbit. My eyes grow wide. "So did you?" I press.

"Yes," Peeta whispered, his head hanging in shame.

"What? Why? How?" Marvel begged, absolutely enthralled in Peeta's possessed past.

"Chill out, Marvel," I dismiss, although I am incredibly curious to know more myself. As much as I feel comfortable around Peeta, I'm now growing more leery towards the capabilities of the demon within.

"Well, I mean it wasn't really me. You see, I started having trouble sleeping, lost my appetite; my skin became hot to the touch. So, of course, my family just thought I was falling ill. Unfortunately, my father was telling customers I was sick and, well, word travels fast in a small district. Soon everyone was worried I had contracted the "fatal mystery illness" that afflicted Madge. But, of course, there were plenty of people who knew it for what it was; they knew what was really wrong with Madge. Now they were keeping too close of an eye on me. I'm talking about people like the men Cato found in the woods. They kept trying to talk my father into letting them upstairs to see me. They couldn't be trusted. Then again, I really couldn't be trusted either. I was fighting for control every day. The worst was when I started to become hostile towards the people I cared for most. I just kept pushing my friends and family away and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The breaking point was the night before I ran. I was hearing voices, seeing shadows. I kept fading in and out of consciousness. When I finally came to for a full period of time, I was outside in the dark. I had no recollection of how I got there, and that's what scared me. I was losing control. I had clearly already lost control."

"What brought you back to reality?" l pressed. I was hoping for clues to better arm myself.

"It was the sound of chaos. There were men running towards the justice building and I saw the entrance completely ablaze. Smoke covered the night sky and it took the rest of the night for everyone to put it out."

"Was anybody killed?" Marvel asked.

"No," Peeta assured with relief. "But apparently Mayor Undersee had been working late every night since Madge passed. He was in there, trapped. He could have burned alive. I had no idea he was in there, but the twisting inside of me told me that _it _knew. _It _knew and that was why the fire was set right at the entrance. I had lost control and Mayor Undersee almost died because of it. The decision to run was pretty clear after that. If only I had known I was being watched."

Peeta stares absentmindedly into the fire, distraught and lost to the memory of his final days in his district. I see him compulsively picking at the healing wounds on his wrist and I grab his hands. He jerks up, surprised, looking confused and lost. I share a quick glance of concern with Marvel and Marvel scoots himself to the other side of Peeta. He places a hand on Peeta's shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, you're here with us now, Peeta," Marvel smiles. "We'll get some answers soon enough. But for now, how about we all get some shut-eye?"

"Yes," I agree, carefully letting my grip on Peeta's hands loosen. "We'll continue towards district 4 in the morning."

My nightmares tonight do not start in their typical fashion. They're clouded with unusual bliss. They are filled with images of Peeta; his smile, his voice. I say something that makes him laugh, but there's no sound, just the image. My subconscious hasn't yet collected Peeta's laugh from reality to put in my dreams. I've never heard him laugh. The dream doesn't last long before turning into a nightmare as I'm now helplessly watching citizens from 12 burn him alive. I try to run to him, but my legs feel stuck in mud. I look down to instead behold blackened, twisted limbs grabbing me with razor talons and dragging me away, leaving Peeta to scream in agony as he continues to burn. My subconscious has definitely recorded Peeta's screams and it's using it against me any chance it can.

I'm awakened brusquely by a fierce shake of my shoulders. The district 2 in me instinctively kicks in and I bolt up, alert in an instant, to impulsively face my attacker. My hand unconsciously connects with my sword, drawn to it almost magnetically as I pounce on the enemy. I raise my blade only to acknowledge the frightened familiar baby blues staring back up at me. Well, they were more so staring at the sword trained to strike him dead.

"Peeta," I sigh with a mixture of relief and frustration as I quickly lower my sword. That was way too close. I do a quick scan to assess my surroundings. Peeta's not on fire, thank god, but he's shaken as I still have him pinned to the ground. Déjà vu. We're in this position way too often for us not to have had sex yet.

"Cato, wake Marvel. We have to go, now!" Peeta quaked as he squirmed out from under me. I could see now he wasn't shaken because of me.

"What's wrong?" I press as I caress his flushed cheek to calm him.

"We have to go. They're here!" he panics as he crawls over to Marvel's sleeping form. He wisely kicks the spear away before shaking him awake. Marvel's reaction is far less "deadlier" than mine as he jolts forward with a dazed "Huh?" and then proceeds to get into a fight with his blanket.

"They're here? Who's-" I stop short as the memory of Peeta's first warning comes rushing back. _They're coming for you, _he had warned. _It tells me so. _I had been too preoccupied with the demon consuming Peeta's consciousness at the time that I had all together forgotten the ever present danger it had spoken of.

"I'm such a fuckin' idiot!" I scold myself as I grab Peeta's hand and make for the horses. "I had a demon actually warn me of danger and I foolishly set up camp to leave us like sitting ducks!"

"Well we couldn't have traveled with Peeta in that condition," Marvel reasons as he scrambles after us with the supplies. I immediately look to find Peeta hanging his head in shame. I squeeze his hand and he looks at me.

"We'll be okay," I sternly promise before hoisting him up on our horse. "How long before they get here?"

"_It's_ excited. So they must be close."

The three of us quickly ride from camp, leaving the fire from last night to smolder. I cling tightly to Peeta and let the wind lap his blond curls against my cheek. I don't allow the sensation to calm me though for it's not long before we hear the first shriek emanating from behind.

"Cato," Peeta grips my hold on his waist tightly. He's frightened. I don't blame him. He's never heard or seen these mutts before. The shrieks are unworldly and growing louder. I can feel them gaining on us. Soon the chorus of screams is far too loud. They're right behind us.

"Holy shit!" Marvel shouts as he whips his head around to get a peek at our pursuers. There are five of them. The strides of our horses match one another as we race side by side. Marvel shoots me a knowing look.

"Now's the time!" I call to him. "Still up for this?"

"I told you back in 1 that I'd fight alongside you," he shouts back. "Nothing has changed."

I see Marvel's steadfast grip on his spear as he swings it out to the ready. The movement is fluid, controlled… menacing. Maybe I didn't give the people in 1 enough credit. Maybe I just didn't give Marvel enough credit. I am… happy he is here.

Marvel actually slows down to put himself in between the mutts and Peeta and I. Courageous fool. We break out of the forest's tree line and the sunrise shines to illuminate the sizzling skin of the mutts. One leaps up to try and knock Marvel from his horse. Marvel braces himself and holds the spear against his body to thrust it deep into the pouncing monster's neck. The bloodcurdling shriek lasts only a second till the momentum of Marvel's galloping steed allows him to pull the spear out like butter. The mutt falls to the earth while the other four trample his corpse to continue the pursuit.

"My god are those fuckers fast!" Marvel shouts as he races back alongside us. I draw my sword from its sheath and the ringing of the blade against the metal trim curls a smile of sheer bloodlust upon my lips. A mutt approaches from my right and I calculate its advance to swing my sword right as it leaps for the attack. The blade slashes across its neck and it stumbles only slightly before determinedly charging back for another try. This time the cut goes deeper, finishing the work of the first to decapitate the beast. I whip my head to the left just in time to see Marvel impaling another mutt. His spearhead gets jammed into the body, pulling the weapon from Marvel's grasp. He slows his horse to reclaim it and shouts for us to keep going. It's then that I see what waits for us on the horizon.

Outlines of buildings. District 4. We're so close.

Another mutt races forward then, as if it can fly, and its claws tear into my horse. The majestic stallion screams as it collapses mid-gallop. The impact sends Peeta and me forcibly to the ground and a quick jolt of pain sears my body from the hit. I immediately lash around to see Peeta struggling to get up but clearly okay enough to move.

"Peeta! Run!" I shout as I'm knocked back down by another mutt from behind. It tries to rip its talons into my flesh but I'm faster as my sword swipes to amputate its arms. God, the shrieks.

I try to pull myself back up when the other mutt advances towards me. I brace myself for the impact until Peeta rushes to put himself between me and the beast.

"No!" I scream in horror as I can't prepare myself for the impending carnage. The beast races forward towards a defenseless Peeta until… it halts. What the fuck? It shrieks its unearthly cry but doesn't move to rip out Peeta's throat. Does it sense one of his brothers standing before him? Does it know the evil inside Peeta? I can only be relieved for a moment as the other mutt I had amputated earlier scrambles to attack me again. I quickly take another swipe with my sword, cutting deep into its belly. A shriek distracts me and I crook my head to see Marvel taking down the mutt that was facing off with Peeta.

"Marvel! Get him outta here!" I order, preparing another swipe towards the wounded mutt before me. "Ride to 4! Now!"

Marvel doesn't hesitate as he grabs Peeta and forces him on his horse. I hear them galloping away as I face off with the last mutt. Just him and I. Amputated and belly gutted, it still shrieks with unwavering hatred and bloodlust for me. I grip my sword tightly and take the offense. I run towards it, full-speed, and lunge my sword deep through its skull. The blade comes out clean on the other side. The mutt jolts in spasms for only a moment before collapsing on the ground.

Pulling out my blade, I take quick assessment of the battlefield. I see the five lifeless mutts littering the earth from the tree line to where I now stand. I feel shame when I see my horse has bled out from the ruthless mauling of the monsters. I turn from the sight, instead focusing on the buildings on the horizon. I can't make out Marvel and Peeta, so I begin the long jog to meet up with them in district 4.

Winded and on edge, I make my way into the strange district. Much larger than I imagined, I don't even know where to begin my search for Marvel and Peeta. Fortunately, Marvel was looking for me too. He's alone.

"Cato!" Marvel calls to me, relieved at my arrival but also concerned. "I lost Peeta."


	10. Change of Heart

**CupcakeSprinkles14- **He lost Peeta to drive you crazy, lol. Just kidding. You'll have to read to find out!

**nightowl- **I have a soft spot for Marvel in this story myself. Can't say yet that I know what his fate will be.

**SakuraDrops141- **Aww, thanks! I'm glad Marvel survived as well.

**MangoMagic17- **Thank you so much. I'm really having fun exploring first-person present-tense this time around. It's been a little difficult writing what's inside Cato's mind the most, but I'm happy you approve:)

**pumpkinking5- **Wow. Thank you so much for such a wonderful and thoughtful review. I find Cato's personality in most fanfics very dark and deliciously animalistic, but I just can't bring myself to take him that far in mine. Aggressive but passionate is right where I like him to be. Your insights into him, Peeta, and Marvel's place in this story made me so happy to read. You're so awesome.

**JacksonTheGreat- **I'm being serious when I say I have no idea where this story is going either, lol. I just take it one idea at a time. So glad you love it.

**Your Failing Epicness- **Peeta's headed for trouble, as usual :) So don't die on me. I want you to read more!

**swishyla- **I love not being fair :) Peeta can't stay put for his own good. He has to find out everything the hard way haha.

* * *

_Peeta's POV_

Marvel's lean arms flex on either side of me as he whips the reigns of our racing horse harder. The beat of its galloping hooves sound so far away, echoing off the canyons of my consciousness. I'm still reeling from what had just taken place. Those creatures were the essence of nightmares and they seemed to have awaken true fear from within me. I was terrified. I _am_ terrified. Yet, amidst my paralyzing fear, I had managed to move. I moved to place myself between those beasts and Cato. Did I somehow know they could sense the demon? Know that they would stop? Of course not. I'm completely oblivious to this new hellacious existence I've found myself in. So what the hell _was_ I thinking? Other than being ripped limb from limb, I don't think I was thinking anything. It was sheer impulse. But why? Why did I do that?

"We should go back!" I shout over my shoulder, looking back to the specks that are Cato and the final mutt. The tinier they get in the distance, the more nauseated I feel. This isn't right.

"We're of no need," Marvel assures. "Cato will win. We need to find Haymitch before more of them show up."

I turn back to face forward again, willing myself to be half as focused as Marvel. It's nearly impossible though as my inner turmoil eats away at me. _Why did I do that? _As controlling and dominating as Cato is, I don't hate him. I hate that he thinks he owns me, but I know that doesn't justify a gruesome end at the hands of those mutts. Still, do I care about him? Care enough that I would actually risk my own life to give him a chance to live his? I didn't think I did, kept telling myself I wouldn't, but apparently my actions speak differently. And don't actions speak louder than words? God, what the fuck is wrong with me?

"District 4!" Marvel shouts as the buildings come into full view. It's much larger than 12, bustling with hoards of people blissfully unaware of the troubled teens riding from peril. We arrive, quickly descending the horse and I fight against the crowd to remain by Marvel's side as he ties the horse to a post. Everyone's so busy, taking little notice of their new arrivals. I know that no one is aware of the chaos erupting inside my mind right now.

I can't make heads or tails of it, and the possibility that I'm growing attached to Cato, as well as Marvel, unsettles me to my core. I can't afford to care for anyone at this point. The presence of those mutts had set my soul afire and I could feel the darkness raging inside me, desperate to join them in their assault. I know anyone that I care about could become a target. That's why I ran away in the first place.

_Run away. _The idea creeps into the forefront of my mind. For the first time since the night on the altar, Cato isn't by my side. Marvel's back is to me, still calming the horse and tying it to the post. The ruckus of district 4 life is the perfect backdrop. Now is the time to make a break for it. I can't take it anymore. I can't stay here.

My eyes pierce through Marvel's hunched shoulder as I back away and disappear into the enormous crowd. I'm swept up in their rush, unable to maneuver through them back to Marvel's side. Bye Marvel. It really was nice meeting you, despite the fucked-up circumstances.

"Ugh, why do I have to be so fucking short?" I curse to myself as I try to stand on my tippy toes to see over the crowd while I'm continually pushed further away. Thinking through my actions, I realize that my ability to think ahead and strategize for my own wellbeing is so painfully pathetic. When Cato gets here, I'll probably be hunted down and found like an idiot, still meandering through the crowd. He'll be pissed and I'll probably be punished. But I still have to try. I follow the masses toward the sound of waves.

The ocean breeze works its way through the district and the scent of salty sea air is invigorating. I give in to the current of the forceful crowd, suddenly determined to get closer to the ocean. I've only seen it in paintings and I know nothing beats the real thing. I find myself being pushed towards a pier that juts out over the sea. The pier is bustling with even more people headed to the different market stands and I stop near a hut with hand-blown glass that sits towards the end. I'm intrigued by all the intricacy and colors. I smile at the vendor and admire his work when I feel _it _stir inside me again, stronger this time. No. Not now. Please, not now. I just had a taste of freedom and just like that, I'm reminded by the twisting inside me that I'm forever a prisoner.

My mind clouds over as a low growl rips out from an unknown source and everyone around me quiets. The cool ocean breeze suddenly turns icy to the point the surrounding citizens can see their breath, but I'm burning up. Uneasy tension surfaces from the people around me and I feel like I've lost all sense of myself. I feel my hands go rigid. The glass vendor's beautiful vases and hand-crafted trinkets begin to shatter suddenly in rapid succession, some of the jars flying out from the shelves, and the crowd gathered around jumps back and screams at the activity. It's not until someone's dog starts viciously barking at me that I snap out of it and feel a stinging sensation on my arm.

I look down to see three of my fingers digging their way up to my elbow. The bright crimson that appears on my bare flesh mimics the juicy red apples sold at the market. I look over to see a frightened woman witnessing my self-mutilation, recognition flashing across her face.

"YOU!" the hysterical woman shouts as she points to me. "A demon! A demon!"

Her frenzied outburst has everyone nearby turning their attention towards me. Shit. I want to open my mouth and diffuse the situation, but I'm afraid what might come out. I turn to leave, but I'm met with an encircling mob. A large man's hands grab me and drag me away. I kick and scream as I watch him drag me to the edge of the pier… he's going to throw me into the ocean. Oh, god. I can't swim. The panic erupts and I start thrashing madly. I know I'm hurting the man, but his grip doesn't falter. I suddenly lose purchase with the wooden boards of the pier and it's then that I know I'm over the edge. The man's hands let go and for a split second, I'm weightless. I'm falling. A scream rips from my throat until the impact of water knocks the wind out of my lungs to silence me forever. The cool wrath of the ocean envelopes my scorched skin and rushes into my beaten lungs. It burns and I struggle to reach the water's surface, but I'm panicked and disoriented. I can't see. There's no up or down anymore. I'm longing for just one last breath of air, but all I feel is fire radiating in my chest. I'm drowning. I'm really drowning. This is it. Suddenly, everything seems to slow; time stands still. I can see the sunlight from the surface now, filtering through the crystal blue water. It's so beautiful, but I'm so far down. I just want to touch the sun, but I'm so far down…

There's a surge of pressure erupting from my throat. I cough and gag and feel a rush of wetness running down my face and neck. Water? Blood? Scalding lava? It hurts so much. My eyes shoot open and everything is bright. Too bright. I instinctively turn away and shield myself into the warmth of the one holding me. Wait, someone's holding me? Still heaving violently, I struggle to tilt my head up to see. My vision is blurry, but I know it's him. Cato's sitting me up and smacking my back to help me cough. My hands scrape into what feels like sand. Every muscle is screaming.

"That's it. Cough it all out," he says with tender eagerness. He's wet too, but his smacks to my back are separated by quick, soothing rubs. I feel so weak and defeated, but in this moment so relieved to have him here with me. I don't even have the strength to hold my head up anymore and I gladly find rest lying against his chest as he holds me. Cato takes the bottom of his shirt and presses it against my bleeding arm. He then suddenly folds his body in a way that shields me from the world and it's then I hear the cries of the approaching mob. They're descending from the pier to finish the job.

"Marvel!" Cato yells. "Do something!"

I peak over Cato's shoulder to see Marvel, our lone ranger, standing between us and the rowdy crowd. His stance is menacing and his spear is at the ready, but I know he can't take on all these people by himself. I want so badly to regain my strength so I can surrender. I don't want Marvel to die.

"Stop!" a familiar voice screams behind the mob. His fury and adamancy makes everyone halt.

"No one moves another fucking inch unless it's to get out of our way!" I hear a woman's voice bark.

The crowd begrudgingly listens and parts a path for them. I knew I recognized that first voice! There, in all his drunken glory, Haymitch Abernathy comes forward with three other women I've never seen before. One is quite elderly.

"Cato, that's Haymitch," I inform with a raspy wheeze. Immediately Cato picks my weary body up, bridal style, and makes his way over to Marvel.

"Marvel, that's our man," Cato says. Marvel cautiously lowers his spear as Haymitch and the three strange women approach us.

"I see you two boys brought me a gift from home," Haymitch grins to Cato and Marvel. The old man's eyes then fall on me and my white-knuckled grip on Cato's soaked shirt. "Hello, Peeta my boy. What a surprise. Looks like you've been up shit creek without a paddle."

"Yeah," I croak. "And clearly my boat's tipped over too."

One of the women next to him with spiky hair snickers at my dry humor and Haymitch's gruff laughter follows to ease the tension amidst everyone in the crowd, barely.

"I'm Haymitch Abernathy, from 12," Haymitch confirmed to Cato and Marvel. "These lovely ladies by my side are Annie and Mags from right here in 4, as well as Miss Johanna Mason from 7."

"Pleasure," Cato offers coldly. "I'd be more than willing to introduce myself to you if you can call off the hit placed on Peeta here first."

Haymitch supplies an appreciative smile and turns to the mob. "Folks," Haymitch begins as he addresses the citizens of 4. "Go on back to your business. I know this boy, and I can assure you he's not afflicted in the same likes of our dear Finnick Odair. Let me handle this."

The elderly woman, Mags, takes the lead then and helps shoo off the disgruntled mob that get their last malicious glares at me before departing back up to the pier.

"Oh, Peeta," Haymitch pities me as he shakes his head. "I assume there's a story to tell here, you showing up, cursed, with these two strange boys."

"We're in trouble, sir," is all I can say after a million explanations run through my head. I've lost my grip on Cato's shirt and am now lazily letting him carry all my dead weight. My chest is killing me and I'm too lethargic to give a shit. Now that the immediate danger has subsided, the burning from the salt water in my clawed-up arm is attacking me with all its fury. I'm too distracted to continue the conversation.

"We actually came all this way to see _you_, Mr. Abernathy," Marvel takes over, thankfully. "I'm Marvel, from district 1, and the strapping lad holding your endangered friend here, is Cato, from 2."

At the mention of Cato's name and origin, Haymitch and the three women resemble victims of an electric shock.

"It's _you_," the woman named Annie whispers. "H-have you come across Finnick?" she asks with worry.

"Who the hell is Finnick?" Cato asks back, ignoring and yet effectively answering her question simultaneously.

Johanna from 7 steps forward and scowls. "If you don't know who he is yet, you will. He's been looking for you."

"What?" Cato says, agitated. "I came here for answers, lady, and all you people seem to be doing is adding more confusion to the mix. Look, district 2's gone, burnt to oblivion. I was chased through the woods by mutts and Peeta has a demon inside him. I really don't care who else is looking for me right now. I just want to know what I can do about all this and why the fuck it's happening in the first place. And I didn't come here to talk to _you_. I'm here for Haymitch."

"My my, you're a feisty little shit, aren't ya?" Johanna replies back with a disgusted sneer of challenge defacing her sharp features. I think if Cato wasn't still holding me, he would have lunged straight for her neck.

"Now now," the elderly woman, Mags, interjects. "We're getting ahead of ourselves here. We will answer all your questions in the privacy and security of my home," she offers Cato. "Let's all go now and get you boys fed and washed up. You boys could use some clean, dry clothes and Peeta needs to rest."

"We thank you kindly," Marvel obliges on our behalf.

Without wasting a second more, we all travel up the beach and follow Mags to her home. Cato refuses to put me down, but I certainly don't care at the moment with the way I'm feeling. Not to mention everyone in the district is staring me down. If looks could kill, I'd be massacred twenty times over by the daggers they're all shooting at me with their eyes. Cato only holds me closer to him and works us in between Marvel and Haymitch as an added safety measure against the bloodthirsty crowd. With Mags leading the way though, the people don't dare step another foot closer. I think Mags has garnered a type of respect and wisdom in 4 that you just don't dare to question. But that certainly doesn't mean that these people have to like her decision to welcome a possessed boy into their home.

"Are you alright?" Cato suddenly whispers into my ear amidst the mobs of citizens.

"I will be," I tell him. "How did you find me and get me out of the water in time?"

"Marvel and I were close, we heard you scream. We got to the scene just in time to watch that son of a bitch throw you off the edge. So, I went in after you."

"You seriously jumped all the way off the pier?" I gasp. "There could've been rocks or a violent swell!"

"I know. But how else could I get to you in time, Peeta?" he says with a shrug as if his daring little stunt was nothing at all. I don't think Cato was lying when he had spoken to Katniss. He told her he cares more than she could possibly know. I am seeing now that he cares more than _I _could possibly know. I feel like a drowned rat as I look up at Cato with fascination in my eyes. "Why can't you just let me go?" I croak with still wet lungs.

"If I let go of you, I let go of me."

"What does that even mean?" I shake my head.

"Don't think too hard about it, okay?" he asks. "Just let it be."

I'm too tired to put up a fight, so I settle for a sigh as I lay my head back on his chest and let him carry me to Mag's home. I think I'm done with this nonsense of repeatedly asking him to let me go. He's clearly not going to, and in the safety of his steady arms, I don't really think I want him to. Not anymore.


	11. It Has Begun

**CupcakeSprinkles14- Haha, they are indeed bastards! Not quite the warmest welcome into 4. Here's the update :)**

******SakuraDrops141- Yay for love! Lol. Mysteries will start to unravel in upcoming chapters if I can play my cards right. **

**********CatoPotato- Drowning is one of my biggest fears, so I think I was putting my own terror into that scene. I'm excited for more Johanna and Finnick too ;)**

**************pumpkinking5- So many good questions which I will try to answer in either this update or future chapters. Keep 'em coming!**

******************swishyla- Cute and badass is a wonderful combination :)**

**********************JacksonTheGreat- I have successfully decoded your review and thank you, haha. I'm glad you love it.**

**************************Sebastian Welling- Thanks so much. I will!**

**Your Failing Epicness- I think we all could benefit from a bit of Cato in our lives. And I know what you mean. There's chapters I like more than others. **

* * *

_Cato's POV_

Peeta shivers in my arms as I carry him to Mag's home, soaked to the bone, lungs raw and beaten. I'm drenched too, but I'm not also suffering the effects of nearly drowning. I know Peeta's in no state to take the brunt of my fury right now. I glance over to Marvel to find him rubbing a surely-bruised shoulder. I had slammed him into a wall when he told me he had lost Peeta. To think how close I really was to losing him… if I ever run into that son of a bitch that threw him off the pier, he'll be praying for the mercy to be thrown into the ocean. I wouldn't give it to him.

"Here we are," Mags interrupts my gruesome fantasies as she opens the door to her home. It's nice; the biggest home I've seen in this district so far. I guess being the sage elder in 4 comes with its perks.

"I take in many weary travelers," she continues, "and of course I always keep rooms available for good friends," she states with a warm smile towards Haymitch and Johanna. "Anyway, there's plenty of space for each of you boys to have your privacy as we sort all this mess out."

"Peeta stays with me," I rigidly correct her. Mags locks eyes with me warily before studying Peeta's own weary expression. I know Marvel's right behind me either flashing a dirty grin or rolling his eyes.

"Yes, yes. Very good," Haymitch decidedly interjects through the sudden tension, though his own analytical expression suggests more behind his approval. "It's best if Peeta is not left alone, for many reasons," he gravely adds. Peeta only weakly nods.

Mags sees us to our rooms and everyone separates to get settled before dinner. I take Peeta to the bathroom and sit him down on the edge of the tub. I let the water run, filling the room with steaming comfort. Peeta struggles to rid himself of his freezing-wet clothes clung tightly to his shivering frame, so I bend down to do it for him. He winces when his shirt runs over the scratches on his forearm. Though the bleeding has stopped, my anger seems endless.

"You should stop trying to run away all the time," I instruct crossly as I get on my knees and dip my fingertips into the tub to test the water. If Peeta's not getting tied to sacrificial altars, then he's getting thrown into the ocean. "Every time you run, something bad happens."

"Yeah," Peeta mumbles, unbuckling his belt. "But at least it's happening to me and not to other people."

"My concern is not for other people," I fume through gritted teeth. "My concern is for you."

Peeta raises his butt a little off the tub for me so I can pull his soaking pants off. Even waterlogged, Peeta's naked form has me feeling fire in the pit of my stomach. His sapphire eyes lock with mine. I know he can see me fighting my lust, but he doesn't look perturbed in the least. This is new.

"I'm sorry, Cato," he whispers.

"Peeta," I begin with a sigh. I'm in no mood to be patronized.

"No, I mean it. I really am sorry." The ardent expression on his face intrigues me.

"Sorry for what?" I challenge, wanting more. I run my hands over his shivering thighs to warm them.

"I'm sorry for ditching Marvel. For worrying you and putting you in even more danger with that mob."

"Are you also sorry for placing yourself in between me and that mutt earlier?" I couldn't help but ask. No way was I going to let him think I was just gonna let that go.

"No," he answers without hesitation. "I'd do it again too. And that is what makes me realize I'm sorry for one other thing." Peeta's eyes burn intensely now and his cheeks flush. "I-I'm sorry for being so stubborn about you and… about you and me."

My breath falters ever so slightly. What is Peeta getting at? Could it be? "I have meant everything I've ever said to you, Peeta," I declare fervently. "You are mine and I'm not letting go. Nothing has changed."

"I know," Peeta affirms, still shivering. "And I don't want to fight it anymore."

He stares into my eyes, confused and conflicted. He's close; so close. This is it. I lean in closer to convince him of his desires and am rewarded when he closes the gap. Peeta kisses me. His lips tread carefully, testing the waters of mutual attraction. As he pulls away, I grab the back of his hair and pull him back to me, unwilling to let this moment end. His lips move with mine and I'm soaring. I have been wishing for this very moment all along. To feel Peeta wanting me; it's something amazing. I gently grasp his waist to keep him from falling off the edge of the tub as I push myself closer to him. Through our kisses, I can feel his teeth chattering. It's then I notice my teeth chattering too. I'm still clothed, soaking wet.

"God," I scold myself lightly as I reluctantly pull away. "You've got me so worked up I'm not thinking straight." I cradle Peeta's back with one hand while my other hand slides under his thighs to ease him into the tub. The pleasured sigh that escapes him as he succumbs to the warmth of the water has me stripping my clothes off with lightning speed. I step into the tub and sink down into the luxurious heat as I pull Peeta towards me. He straddles my hips and lets his hands rest on my bare chest. I eagerly accept his parted lips again and we continue our make out session in the warmth of the steaming bath. After grueling days and nights spent trekking through unforgiving wilderness and being ruthlessly hunted, I handle this moment, and Peeta, with utter desperation, afraid of it getting taken away from me like everything else in my life. My hands ravenously run up and down Peeta's backside, dipping in and out of the water to caress his glistening wet skin. As Peeta's hands move to massage my scalp, I buck my hips up into him, desperate for friction.

"Mmmm," Peeta moans into my mouth. It drives me crazy.

"I want to take you right here, right now," I grunt as I roll my hips repeatedly into him. I attack his neck, nibbling the tender flesh. I put a little too much pressure on his sore throat when I suck on it and Peeta starts to choke and cough.

"My lungs hurt," he whimpers between coughing fits. I mentally smack myself. Of course they do. They were just filled with salt water not long ago. I soothingly rub his back before flipping him to lay his back against my chest and rest.

"This will have to wait then," I say into his hair as my fingertips graze every inch of his body under the water. I can feel my rock-hard dick twitching against his ass. This is utter torture. Yet, I can't bring myself to take Peeta in the state he's in, just like I couldn't do it back on that stone altar. I'm losing it. This boy has me going soft while simultaneously making me always hard, so to speak.

I let the water envelope us in its warmth as I pepper Peeta's shoulder with light kisses. He rests his head on my chest near the crook of my neck and I feel content to stay in this moment forever until a knock on the door interrupts paradise.

"Marvel, I swear to god you always pick the worst possible moment to fucking show up," I growl to the intruder on the other side of the door.

"Actually, it's Annie," the strange woman replies meekly. "I have clothes for you and Peeta. I'll just set them outside the door. Dinner will be ready soon as well."

"Thank you, Annie," Peeta offers. He turns and glares at me.

"Yes, thank you," I mumble to appease the boy in my arms. "We'll be right down." Peeta turns from me before I can see if he's smiling, but I feel as though he is. I lightly smile too.

The arrangements for dinner are simple. No chairs, just plush pillows and dishes filled to the brim with food to be shared. The atmosphere is tense; there's much to discuss. I can see the grave expressions marred on each of our faces. Well, except for Marvel's. He's far too preoccupied with stuffing his face to give a shit.

"Oh man! This is sooo good!" he gushes with a mouthful of roasted groosling. "My compliments to the chef!"

Mags gives him an appreciative nod and Johanna snickers at Marvel when he starts to choke. "You might enjoy it even more if you actually chew it first, you Neanderthal," she chides. I give Marvel a quick blow to his back to dislodge the meat from his windpipe.

"Whew! Thanks, man," Marvel coughs as he composes himself. "And I wouldn't go as far to say that I'm a Neanderthal, my fair maiden, but I can be construed as quite the animal," he replies with a wink. Johanna gives him a nasty glare of warning before digging in to her own plate.

"It would do you good, kid, to know that I'm no 'fair maiden'," she cautions through her own mouthful of groosling, sitting with her legs wide open. I think it's painfully obvious she's not.

"Enough with the small talk and 'pleasantries'," Haymitch suddenly interrupts gruffly, much to my relief. This man is alright in my book. He looks around the room, examining each of the faces before him. I do the same. Mags looks deep in contemplation, Johanna looks irritated, Annie appears to be woefully concerned, Marvel finally seems focused, and Peeta's jaw tenses, but I can also see he's fighting to stay awake. He needs to rest and recuperate, but I know he's dying for answers just as much as I am. My eyes dart back to Haymitch's weathered ones and see him trained on me before he continues.

"We already know about district 2's fate and that you're being hunted, Cato," he utters gravely.

"How?" I demand. "I mean, I'm sure word is already traveling through the districts about my home, but how do you know about _me_?"

"Finnick told me before he left," Annie answers. Her eyes fill with tears.

"And who is this 'Finnick'?" I ask. "How does he know?"

"It wasn't Finnick who spoke with her, it was the demon inside him," Mags corrects, a gentle hand placed upon Annie's trembling shoulder.

"A demon?" Peeta jolts up at the word. "You mean this Finnick guy is possessed like me?"

"Yes," Haymitch acknowledges. "Finnick has been cursed too, but unfortunately he has fallen victim to its darkness far worse than you, my boy. You are still fighting it. Our dear Finnick, on the other hand, lost his battle and has been completely consumed."

My eyes shift over to Peeta to see him deep in consternation, surely brooding over the day when he may lose his battle too.

"That's not gonna happen to you," I whisper sternly. He looks up at me with pitiful despondency.

"Finnick had been acting crazy for a while," Annie starts again, staring blankly at a spot on the wall, lost in time. "Then, suddenly, he was gone. His last words were that he was 'called to kill the last of district 2, to burn his body like the rest of its people.' He specifically spoke your name, Cato."

"That's when Annie sent word to our districts for us to come," Johanna added. "We're all longtime comrades. I'm glad you found us, Annie. This shit's messed up. You shouldn't have to go it alone."

"Wait a minute," Marvel imposes. "Go back. You said Finnick, or rather the demon inside Finnick, was 'called' to kill Cato? What does that mean? Who 'called' for him?"

"Yeah," I add, greatly intrigued. "And those freakish mutts that destroyed my district. When I first met Marvel he told me those things walk the earth when summoned. Who the hell is 'calling' for demons and 'summoning' mutts to kill me?"

Haymitch takes a long swig of his drink before staring me dead in the eyes. "When I got here and Annie told me what the demon had said, I knew it had finally begun."

"What?!" I demand, exasperated. "What has begun?"

"The Dark Days," he hisses menacingly.

My heart plummets into the pit of my stomach. This can't be. No way is this real.

Snow.


	12. Revelation

**EPuppy1- Thank you for reviewing. I'm glad you did because I haven't updated in so long, but I don't want to drop this either! Leaving things unfinished drives me bananas! **

**SakuraDrops141- Thank you! Good to know you approve of Snow! Hehe, that rhymed :) **

**Your Failing Epicness- Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm so glad you love what I've done so far. Heart-shaped cookies sound divine. **

**pumpkinking5- This story is a puzzle I'm trying to piece together as I go. Your questions are greatly appreciated as it makes me go back and fill in the holes. I promise to do my best! **

**CatoPotato- Haha, thanks. Honestly, I'm not sure how excited I am about Snow either. I need to stop writing about ideas I haven't thoroughly explored yet. I guess we'll see where I go with this together lol. **

**Cupcakesprinkles- Somebody always has to be the cock block lol. Cato and Peeta will have their moment (I hope!)**

**MangoMagic17- Thanks so much for the lovely remarks. I feel like it's been hit or miss with this story for me in terms of plot progression, but I'm glad you're enjoying it nonetheless.**

* * *

Finnick stalks deeply into the woods when he comes upon the decaying corpses of the slain men from 12. A smile of shear bloodlust graces his pouty lips.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Cato, _darling_, you are not covering your tracks very well," Finnick chides amongst the silent forest as he examines the perfect slice made on the decapitated butcher's neck. A clean cut; no hesitation, no resistance. Such precision and strength could only be accomplished with a well-sharpened sword wielded by only a well-trained fighter. The kill site has district 2 written all over it. Finnick kicks the body aside and his emerald eyes fall upon the maggots speckled along the earth where the rotting flesh had settled.

"You little critters have been feeding on this putrid filth for a while now, haven't you? Let me bring you some fresh meat. District 12, here I come."

* * *

_Peeta's POV_

I can see dreadful recognition etched onto Cato's features, poorly masked behind a shroud of disbelief. Haymitch has clearly struck a nerve with him.

"Where did you hear about 'The Dark Days'?" Cato demands.

"I'm a well-traveled man, my boy. I know all the legends and stories of Panem, even the one your district tried to push under a rug."

"So you admit it then, that it's just a legend," Cato challenges Haymitch, his left eyebrow cocked.

"It's proven to be much more than that now, wouldn't you say? It is a legend come to life."

Cato purses his lips and looks away. His eyes lock briefly with mine. To say I'm confused would be an understatement.

"What's Haymitch talking about, Cato?" I ask. "What are 'The Dark Days'?"

Cato looks away and scoffs at the absurdity of it all, angrily pushing away his plate. He glowers at Haymitch. "This is all so fucking ridiculous. You're kidding, right? I'm not just gonna sit here and indulge in this ghost story bull shit like the rest of you. I have real problems! And the fact that you're all actually trying to sell me on this 'Dark Days' garbage just shows you're too crazy to be of any use to me. I'll just figure things out on my own."

"Cato-" is all I manage to get out before he ups and turns to leave the room. I hear his frustrated footsteps fumble up the stairs. Disconcerted, I turn back to find our hosts unimpressed by his temper tantrum.

"Well, shit. That escalated quickly," Marvel grimaces.

"Well, for a boy from 2, it's like finding out the Boogeyman is real and, not only is he real, but he's gunning straight for you," Annie offers. "I don't blame his skepticism. He's been looking for solid answers and we go and provide him with District 2 folklore."

"He just needs time to process the validity of such a theory. He'll accept it all, one way or another," Mags omnisciently preaches as she continues to sip her soup.

"What is it that he's not accepting? What are 'The Dark Days'?" I ask again, desperate to have better luck this time around.

Suddenly, the flames flicker on the candles in the room, night now fully enrapturing the district outside. The dancing fire on the wicks play and twist with the features of the elders sitting across from me. They all lean in close with foreboding demeanors, sending a chill straight up my spine. Holy shit, it really is time for ghost stories.

Haymitch takes a potent swig of his drink before clearing his throat. "As the legend goes, there once was a man from 2 who was said to have sold his soul to darkness, his entire entity devoted to curses, demonic possessions, poisoning his foes, even abducting children for sacrificial rituals."

"He was known throughout the district simply as 'Snow'," Annie continues with piercing intensity, "for his skin was translucent, his hair like chalk, and, get this, even the irises of his eyes were colorless, blending into the milky surrounding of his corneas."

"Yikes," Marvels scowls.

"The citizens of 2 had their suspicions of the man when children continued to disappear. Snow was eventually exposed for the monster he was," Mags elaborates. "He was cast out of the district, hunted and hated."

"How did they find out it was him?" I interrupt.

"We don't know," Mags responds with a fragile shake of the head. "That part of the story remains a mystery I suppose."

"Anyway," Johanna gets us back on track. "Word had spread of his wickedness until every district in Panem had placed a bounty on his head. Legend says that before Snow disappeared, he swore that he'd have his revenge for being cast away. He would place a curse on district 2 to destroy it, supposedly signifying the beginning of 'The Dark Days' when he would invoke evil to consume all of Panem."

"So…what? Is all this supposed to be Snow's undertaking from beyond the grave?" I ask. "Or is he somehow still alive? I mean, if this is a timeworn legend, shouldn't he be long dead by now?"

"Yes, if Snow was but a normal, mortal, man," Mags indicates. "Selling his very soul to darkness, who's to say what he had become after being banished from district 2 so long ago?"

"Clearly, whatever Snow has become, he isn't above manipulating already 'afflicted' individuals into doing his dirty work," Johanna spits.

"When you say 'afflicted,' you mean possessed," Marvel clarifies. I swallow the lump forming in the back of my throat. Everyone back home uses that same term to keep from outright calling someone possessed. It fits really. To be "afflicted," regardless with what, is synonymous with being stricken, plagued, and tormented. You suffer when you're afflicted. What a nicer, less offensive way to describe the utter hell someone is going through. It makes me taste acid in my mouth.

"Yes," Haymitch nodded. "We all know possession isn't a novel occurrence. Evil has always been present in this world and, throughout history, some fall prey to its darkness." Haymitch's eyes never leave mine, as if I'm the only one in the room. Fortunately, his gaze is not one of pity, but of understanding. "But the fact that there is now someone able to control these demons and their host bodies into doing their bidding represents a whole new threat to our world. It's no longer the fear of isolated incidences of certain people becoming possessed by a demon. It's the terror that they are all now becoming organized. Snow is providing a catalyst to promote an organized union of darkness intent on one mission: not to destroy the single individual that the single demon possesses, but to bring them all together and destroy the entirety of Panem. I'm talking about a systematic war against humanity."

Haymitch's eyes are now boring deep into my being, any shred of resignation I once had now succumbing to the weight of his revelation. Everything has changed. If I lose this battle with the demon within, it'll be far worse than losing my own soul. I'll become a piece in Snow's game. My body will be used to take the souls of the innocent, long after my own soul burns. I can't let that happen. I won't be turned into some kind of monster. I will die as myself.

"So what do we do?" I ask with sparked resolve.

"Snow's hunting Cato, so we hunt Snow," Johanna states as a matter of fact.

"How the hell do we do that?" Marvel asks.

"Snow is specifically gunning for that young man," Mags declares. "If he doesn't get what he wants, he's bound to make an appearance. Until then, we start preparing ourselves for an inevitable influx of mutts and demons."

"One of them being Finnick," Annie mutters gravely. "He's determined to kill Cato." The look on her face suggests she's already accepted Cato's death as inevitable.

"But he won't," I insist, firmly. I'm offered a weak smile in return before she hangs her head down and picks at her food miserably. I glance at Marvel and we share a knowing look. If this Finnick guy is intent on killing Cato, I can't see it ending well for the man from 4, possessed or not. The memory of the 5 slain men from my district gives me an unsettling assuredness of that.

"I'm not very hungry anymore," I suddenly decide with a sigh as I chew my bottom lip.

"Give it here, then," Marvel insists eagerly, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

"If you're not hungry, then go upstairs and rest," Haymitch suggests. "Maybe try and calm that pistol of a boy up there while you're at it. We need him on board with this as soon as possible, for his own sake."

Haymitch follows me out of the room and before I can ascend the stairs, he grabs my elbow and pulls me aside.

"How are you?" He asks with great intensity. I give him a strange look before I fully comprehend the extent of his question.

"Well, compared to Finnick, I'm golden," I shrug sarcastically. "I'm certainly not okay, to say the least, but I'm still here. I'm still fighting. That's something, right?"

"It is," Haymitch agrees. "I don't want you letting go on me, boy."

"I can always feel it, deep inside me, fighting for control, Haymitch. I was hoping you could help me, but I see now there are bigger problems at hand."

"Unfortunately so," he mutters grimly. "But, tell me, does everyone back home know of your possession?"

"If they don't all know by now, they will soon. It's only a matter of time before they find the bodies and connect them with my disappearance."

"Bodies?" Haymitch presses, shocked.

"I didn't just stumble into Cato and Marvel on my way to see you. Cato found me outside of 12 tied to an altar. Some men from our district found out about me and were seconds away from killing me. Cato 'stopped' them, if you know what I mean. Consequently, I apparently belong to Cato now in his eyes."

Haymitch digests the new onslaught of information quickly. "And what do you plan to do about that?" he asks with a new spark of intrigue in his eyes.

"Up until now, I had every intention of escaping the first chance I got," I admit. "I'm nobody's property."

"Damn right, you're not. But now?"

"Now," I hesitate. "I don't know," I sigh. It's the best answer I can offer Haymitch at the moment. He's prying into what I haven't even unsurfaced yet for myself. "I can't make sense of anything anymore. I mean, Cato really is looking out for me, which is more than I can say for the folks back home. So, if Cato thinks I am his, I'll let him think that… for now. There're more pressing matters to deal with."

"We won't let you fall by the wayside, boy," Haymitch promises with a stiff grip of my shoulder. "If we can beat Snow, then we can beat this thing too. We'll deal with one problem at a time. You just have to stay strong till then. And I know you can."

I'm certain he's not actually as confident as he sounds, but I appreciate Haymitch indulging me nonetheless. I offer him a gratuitous smile before I turn back to the steps to confront Cato. Upstairs, I slowly creak open the bedroom door to find the window to Cato and I's room open. The salty breeze floats across my skin, cool in the night air. I see Cato's silhouette sitting on the bed. He's been waiting for me.

"Did you get enough to eat?" he asks me in the darkness. I make my way over to his figure and stand before the bed.

"I didn't have much of an appetite," I admit. "I think what I really need is sleep."

"Well, you did almost drown today," he states as he leans to pull me towards him. His hands rest on my hips before he begins unbuttoning my pants. "It probably hurts to swallow, doesn't it?"

"I'll get over it," I reply with a slight shrug of the shoulder. We continue facing each other in silence, a slight tension in the air. He knows I'm waiting for him to explain his outburst at dinner.

"Whatever they said down there about the 'Dark Days' is utter bullshit," Cato finally begins. "I want you to know that, Peeta. They're all a bunch of paranoid conspiracy idiots. Making tall tales into fact. They can't help you and they can't help me. We'll keep looking for answers somewhere else. God, traveling all the way here was just a huge waste of time. "

"I disagree," I calmly reply. "It's all too much of a coincidence and I think we should prepare ourselves."

"For what? A fuckin' demonic war?" Cato scoffs, his hands falling from my hips to rest as fists on his lap. "And what is this '_we_' stuff? You think I'm going let you fight my battles for me?"

"I'm not going to fight them _for_ you, Cato. I'm going to fight them _with_ you."

"Please," Cato dismisses. "A demon lives inside you, Peeta. You're too busy fighting _yourself_."

"I'm not like Finnick, though. I'm still me. You said it yourself, remember? So, I'm going to help."

"No, you're not." Cato was getting exasperated now, angry. "I didn't save your life just to put you through total hell…literally."

"Well it's not really up to you," I state firmly.

"Yes, it is. You're mine, Peeta. Between the demon inside you and the shit you've been through lately, you're in no condition to fight. Even if you were, I'd still say no. In fact, we're leaving 4 first thing in the morning,"

"What? No, we're not!" I detest. He glares at me coldly before grabbing my wrist.

"It wasn't a request," he growls. Cato thinks his aggression will force me into submission. He'll have to try harder than that.

"You're scared," I abruptly accuse, a taunting smirk tugging my lips. "You're scared because you know it's not a just a legend. You know it's true."

"Shut up and get ready for bed," he hisses.

"Why are you denying it, Cato?" I continue to press, ignoring the added pressure of fingertips digging into the pulse point on my wrist. "Why is this so hard to face?"

"Because the pieces of shit in my district that would go around telling this stupid story would drag my great grandmother into it. They needed to just keep my family's name out of their mouths."

"Your great grandmother? Haymitch and the others didn't say anything about that in their version of the story. What does your great grandmother have to do with Snow?"

"Nothing," Cato bellows indignantly. He ruggedly pulls me on the bed then and continues to undress me. "We're not talking about this anymore." He shuts me up with a fierce kiss and I can't help but notice the desperation behind it. The way his fingers run through my hair and down my body, tracing the skin in a heated endeavor to commit it all to memory. He's rattled. I run my hands down Cato's back in a pathetic attempt to soothe him. He pulls back before resting his forehead against mine. He's exhausted, mentally, physically. I'm right there with him.

"Let's at least sleep on it?" I whisper.

"Let's just sleep."

I know that we'll both be plagued in our dreams tonight.

_I'm choking as the water rushes in, trying to displace the last sacred bit of air from my lungs. I fight to reach the surface but hands hold me down, gripping tightly onto my neck. Suddenly, they pull me up._

_"Had enough?" my aggressor taunts. Cato._

_"Please, stop," I wheeze. Cato picks me up out of the water only to drag my weary body up the beach. He's dragging me toward the pier. It's pitch black in the dead of night but I hear shouting and see flames up ahead. Is he delivering me to the mob? God, no._

_"You can't do this!" I scream hoarsely, suddenly thrashing with whatever strength I have left. I feel myself growing hysterical. "Cato, stop!"_

_A blaze shoots across his irises as my words set fire to a new aggression. Cato pushes me up against one of the beams supporting the massive pier. His one hand plants firmly in a terrifying grip on my neck, while the other snakes its way down to claim my manhood. My body jolts from the sudden pressure as Cato bellows, "An what are _you _going to do about it? I can do whatever the fuck I want. I can do whatever the fuck I want with _you_."_

_The pressure on my neck is aggravating my already burning and waterlogged throat, but I hide the pain from him as I grit my teeth. "It's MY life!"_

_Cato's eyes are wild in the moonlight and I know mine reflect the same. Cato suddenly moves to attack my mouth with his and I strain against the weight on my neck to turn away. My resistance infuriates him and he pulls me away from the beam and throws me down on the ground. My face hits the sand and I suddenly feel Cato's weight upon me. A hand runs through my hair before grabbing a handful, forcing my head back to expose my neck for a barrage of bite marks. My heart is pumping madly._

_"I want you, so I take you," he growls as he single-handedly pulls down my trousers and underwear. He picks me up just to throw me again, this time landing to face him. He pulls down his own pants and tears at my shirt when he descends upon me. Cato sneers as his hands grapple with my naked form._ _"How can you possibly believe you have a say in anything anymore?"_

_Cato grabs my flailing arms and pins them down__**, **__forcing my thighs apart with his knees. I'm grunting under the strain of trying to free myself, and I feel the heat of my exertion flush my pale skin. Cato's grip never waivers and he watches me hypnotically until, in his lust and fury, he recklessly fills me in one violent thrust. The sudden strike of pain hits so fast and sharp that my body arcs up off the sand, rigid, and my own scream is choked by the lump in my throat. For a moment, I can't even breathe. Quickly, my muscles settle and I crumple into a quiet sob. Cato stills himself inside me, but I can feel his eyes trained on my face, see his shadow hover over me, blocking the moonlight._

_"You need to see, need to _feel_, that you're helpless. That you're not worth shit anymore. There's nothing you can do. There's no one to help you. Know your place and _burn_ in it."_

_Cato grunts, strained, as he slowly pulls out only to push back in with a groan. My body's burning and I can't stop the whimper that falls from my lips, or the tears that trickle down, as he relentlessly fucks me. His hateful words, his utter disregard for me... I despise him… I'm not the only one._

_"He was never to be trusted," a sinisterly familiar voice hisses in the night. "He'll hurt you to get what he wants. He'll kill you without a second thought to get what he needs. He's no good. Get rid of him. He'll destroy us both in the end. Get rid of him!"_

My eyes shoot open and air fills my lungs as I gasp upon awakening. Holy shit. I'm immediately aware of _its_ presence as it twists inside me, begging for release.

"Leave me the fuck alone," I sneer as it makes my bones ache. "Nice try though with the 'subliminal' nightmare, you piece of shit."

It's hot. Too hot. I instinctively move to rip the sheet and blanket away from my sweat-slickened body only to find there is none. I'm exposed and left to witness my fully erect penis. The dream was horrific, pathetically manipulative, but apparently also arousing. I seriously need to get a grip. I look over, expecting to see a very confused Cato awoken by my outburst, but I'm met with an empty bedside. I crawl to his side of the bed and look over to see a bare floor. No clothes. No sword. Nothing. My eyes scan the room and I discover what happened to the bed linen. One end of the sheet is tied to the door knob, the other end tied to the blanket, which hangs out the open window.


	13. Not Again

**CupcakeSprinkles14- This chapter should answer that question. And Peeta's demon is definitely sick, up to no good. And I love it muahahaha!**

**JacksonTheGreat- Good to be back, thanks! As far as where Cato ran off to… good guess, but read on! **

**pumpkinking5- I enjoy reading your insights into Peeta's demon. I wasn't sure if I was getting that manipulation across, but you certainly hit the nail on the head with it. Thank you.**

**Your Failing Epicness- Hahaha, love it. And you know, I've never considered addressing Marvel's sexual orientation, but you make a good argument. Plus, I aim to please. And did you mean that you picture Marvel as a seme or his partner? Hmm, I'm getting some ideas ;)**

**EPuppy1- Ahhhh indeed!**

* * *

_Cato's POV_

My mind won't shut up. Is this really happening? Is it all true? Where the fuck do I go from here? What do I do?

Peeta's bare skin draws me into a trance. The moonlight through the window outlines his resting silhouette as I continually trace the dip in his waist and follow it up to the top of his hip and back down again. He wants to stay here. He doesn't understand we can't stay here. We can't stay anywhere, at least not for long. How can I protect him when just being with me puts him in danger?

I watch Peeta's body rise and fall with the filling of his lungs and take notice when the rhythm slows. He's asleep. My lips connect with his shoulder blade before closing my own eyes. We all just need some rest. But rest is not what I get. Falling from consciousness, an image flashes across the back of my eyelids. I see bodies littering an alleyway. It's like my premonitions back home, but they're not of district 2… it's 12. I hear screaming. A little girl? She's crying for someone to help her. She says a name. _Katniss_.

I see Peeta's friend in the dirt, bloodied and sobbing, begging for this little girl. A man, I can only make out the back of his head, stands above her when he suddenly bends down to pull her up by her disheveled braid. He gives her an ultimatum.

_"Cato or her life."_

I awake with a jolt as my mind races back to the present. It was all so real. I look over to Peeta and see his shoulders twitching slightly. He's having a nightmare too. But no, mine was no nightmare. It was a warning. Someone's going to wreak havoc in 12, someone clearly capable of bloodshed by the sight of those bodies. Someone will threaten Katniss. Who was the little girl crying? Who was that man who knew my name?

Who knows my name?

Finnick.

I immediately leap off the bed, ripping the sheets away as I fumble into my clothes. It was definitely a premonition. I remember now what Katniss had said before we left for 4, how she couldn't leave her little sister to help Peeta. That crying girl must be her sister. Finnick is going to hurt her, use her as bait for Katniss. Katniss knows where we are. And surely she'll rat me out for the sake of her sister. I'd do the same in her shoes. My god, this is real. I had failed to heed my premonitions before and it had cost all that was dear to me. I will not ignore the signs again. I can't deny what is happening, can't put off accepting it any longer. Finnick is hunting me. He has death on his side. Whatever his reasons, I refuse to let him make it to 4, to get any closer to us… to Peeta. I must meet this demon before he makes it here.

Dressed with sword in hand, I have to get one last moment with Peeta. I kneel before his side of the bed and, as tenderly as possible, brush my lips against his. He barely even stirs, but I swear a slight smile tugs his lips. I commit it to memory and lock it away, safe from the world. I'll be back soon. Keep fighting till then, Peeta. I won't lose you too.

I creep out into the hallway, only to hear the soft patter of a conversation emanating from downstairs. What the fuck are Mags and Haymitch still doing awake?

"We must warn the other districts of what's arising," Mags insists to Haymitch.

"I'm sure word has traveled fast and most, if not all, of the districts know of 2's fate by now," Haymitch points out. "Elders of each district will take action. But, yes, we must make sure they know the full extent of what's happening."

"Do we send word that a boy survived?"

"I think the less attention we bring to Cato, the safer he'll be. We say nothing to no one about who he is or where he's from. Let Snow squirm a while trying to find him."

"Whatever role that boy has to play in this, we need to keep him guarded," Mags declares.

"He'll definitely make it difficult for us considering that district 2 temper of his and," Haymitch sighs, "I don't mean to pour salt into an open wound, but he's risking his own safety with Peeta. Keeping a possessed boy in your inner circle is like a ticking time bomb in this harrowing situation."

"Indeed," Mags agrees. "We'll just have to monitor the situation very carefully and take the appropriate actions if necessary."

Appropriate actions? What the fuck are they talking about? Whatever they're insinuating, it's clear that there is no way they're just gonna let me walk out the door on my own. They'll blow the whistle so fast, Marvel will probably burst out of his room with nothing but his spear and a smile on before I even take 2 steps out the door. And this is not his fight. I want to do this myself, show Snow he can throw whatever he dares my way and I will conquer it. I may be the last of 2, but I'm certainly not the least.

I tiptoe back into the bedroom to find Peeta exactly as I left him. His brow is furrowed deep in anguish and I fight the urge to wake him so as to release him from whatever nightmare he's having. I'd rather have Peeta face demons in his sleep than wake him and make him face reality. A slight breeze suddenly diverts my attention to the window, and in a heartbeat I'm tying the scattered bed linen like a rope. Certainly not a graceful exit, but an effective one nonetheless. One end tied to the doorknob, I nimbly descend down the side of Mag's home only to find my escape blocked by Annie. She's startled to see me and I can tell she's been crying.

"What are you doing out here?" she asks with a sniffle.

"I could ask you the same thing," I gruffly reply.

"Couldn't sleep, needed some air," she shrugs as she wipes her face with the back of her hand.

"Fair enough," I acknowledge and start to walk off.

"Wait!" she calls. "What about you? Where are you going?"

"Not your concern," I dismiss as I keep walking.

"You have your sword with you. You have everything with you. You're leaving, aren't you? What about your friends? What about Mags and Haymitch? They insist that you stay."

"It doesn't matter what they 'insist.' They're not my parents. I'm a guest, not a prisoner, and you best not say a word to them," I warn as I turn to glare at her, my hand on the hilt of my sword. Her eyes warily follow my movements, and she stiffens.

"I'll scream," she threatens. "Just tell me where you're going. I won't say anything."

I could kill her. A snap of the neck, a slash of the throat. Could I close the distance between us in time before she screams? Wait, wait. What the fuck am I thinking? That couldn't possibly bode well for me. She isn't the enemy, just an annoying girl.

"I'm going back to 12," I declare.

"Why?" she asks, confused.

"I had a premonition that something bad was going to happen there," I answer, vaguely. "I don't know when, but I want to be there when it happens to face him head on."

"_Him_?" she points out. Shit, I slipped up. "You're talking about Finnick, aren't you? Let me come with you!"

"No," I scoff. "You'll just get in my way. Hell, you'd probably stab me in the back if it meant it'd protect your precious Finnick. You don't seem to get that he's the enemy now. You're lost in denial."

Annie only glares at me with disbelief as she shakes her head. "I feel like you of all people would understand what it's like to still want to protect the 'afflicted'," she chides. "Are you saying you wouldn't do the same if it were Peeta? Hell, it's one step away from being Peeta! Are you saying that you still wouldn't fight for the boy, regardless of the demon's hold on him? I see the way you care for him, Cato. I think you're the one in denial."

"Peeta isn't like Finnick," I defend.

"Not yet," Annie warns. "But with each passing day, he'll weaken. Trust it from someone who's speaking from experience. I've seen firsthand, the deterioration. In the end, the darkness always gets what it wants. You can't save him."

"You shut your mouth," I growl.

"So sad," Annie disparages. "But, go ahead. Confront Finnick alone. I won't say a word to the others. This way he'll at least stand a chance instead of having to face you along with Johanna and Marvel by your side."

"He won't stand a chance regardless if he's facing me. I don't need anyone by my side to help my odds," I correct smugly, still gripping the hilt of my blade. Annie only smiles deviously in return before turning to go back into the house.

"You have no clue what you're up against, you brute. Nice knowing ya." And with that the mad girl from 4 shuts the door, leaving me to race off to 12 under the cover of darkness. I navigate to Marvel's horse, happy to take our last resort of speedy travel as to discourage the others from following once they catch wind of what's happened. And, without a second look back, I gallop away from the sleeping district of 4, Annie's words left in my head like a bitter aftertaste of spoiled wine.

My eyes scan the horizon for any sign of mutts. I know Marvel's skill would certainly come in handy again if they return, but I'm confident I could hold my own just as well. I think back to the way the one mutt halted its attack against Peeta, surely sensing the darkness within him. It was the only time I was actually relieved and grateful he was possessed. It had saved him, if only for a brief moment. Peeta had been reckless, putting himself in between me and that mutt, but his actions speak volumes towards him as a human being, and perhaps even more about the way he has come to feel for me. Annie's wrong. Peeta's not like Finnick. He's fighting and he's winning, right? He's strong. His soul is strong. But immediately my mind races back to the moment where his strength faltered during our journey to 4 and the demon came through. God, those black soulless eyes. I'd never admit it aloud, but I was frightened. I didn't know what to do. Fear took hold and I thought I'd lost him. I know those moments are bound to happen again. Will every one of them weaken him over time? Will it get worse?

I think back to just yesterday, the two of us together, the world pushed away and locked outside the bathroom door. The way he looked at me, the things he said, and his hands tangled in my hair. His lips were finally eager, he was willing. Everything had changed. It was a turning point for us and I won't let anything get in the way of him being with me, and me with him. I have so much to fight for now. It's not just for the past, for the memory of my family and the honor of my district. I'm fighting for the future. There's a chance for a future, for me and for Peeta. I'll stack the odds in our favor.

I never thought that my entire existence would be entwined with the fate of another, but here I am. My whole world so quickly shattered, but just as quickly rebuilt anew with fervor.

My thoughts are quickly torn away as I suddenly feel the hair prickle on the back of my neck. The further I ride into the forest, the more I realize I'm not alone.


	14. So You've Heard of Me Too?

**EPuppy1- I'm hoping your exclamation and extreme use of the "y" key is a good thing, lol. **

**Your Failing Epicness- Why thank you. Your suggestions for Marvel are quite tempting. I'll have to see where I want to take that. Reviews can be very persuasive ;)**

******JacksonTheGreat- Glad you loved it! Yes, Cato just might get a blow to his brutish ego very soon…**

**********MangoMagic17- Cato is definitely an anchor for Peeta, but I think Peeta needs to find that strength within himself if he's going to make it out of this. **

**************pumpkinking5- There was a bit of a flirtatious vibe with Marvel when he spoke with Johanna. There might be something there or it could just be a part of his personality. Only time will tell ;) And let's hope Cato and Peeta will get to see each other again! **

**CupcakeSprinkles14- I can't help myself. I have a problem. Just like I have a problem updating on a timely basis. So sorry!**

* * *

_Peeta's POV_

I know Cato wanted to leave 4, but I assumed he meant all of us would go too. Panicked at the empty room, I stumble out of bed and into my clothes before racing out of the bedroom.

"Cato's gone!" I cry out to anyone and everyone.

"What's happening?" Marvel suddenly bursts out of his room, butt-naked, and, no double entendre intended, gripping his spear.

"Cato! He just up and left us!" I try to explain. "He said last night he wanted to leave, and now he's gone! His clothes, his sword, everything. Where could he have gone?"

"I just gotta put some pants on and we'll go out looking," Marvel offers before slipping quickly back into his room. By now, everyone else has emerged from their rooms and were taking stock of the situation.

"Maybe he's going back to 2?" Johanna suggests. "Search the ruins for any clues or something?"

"There's nothing for the boy there," Mags dismisses. "Something had to have set him off."

We all chew on our lips, distraught, searching for some answer. Well, everyone except Annie. She looks positively unaffected by the surprising twist of events. Haymitch is the first to throw an accusatory glare her way.

"Annie, you look like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Spill it. What do you know?"

"Nothing!" she all too defensively cries.

"Annie, cut the bullshit!" Johanna growls. "I've known you long enough to know when you're lying. You're picking at your nails and your left eye is twitching. Dead giveaway you're guilty."

"Johanna, you're supposed to be my friend!" Annie scolds with eyes of malice.

Mags hobbles over to the guilty party and suddenly, the back of her hand connects with Annie's cheek.

"You need to grow up, girly, and realize what's at stake here. I know you just want to protect Finnick, we all do, but this isn't the way to do it. Enough is enough. Where did that young man run off to?"

"He's gone back to 12, okay!" the unraveled woman screeches as she breaks out into uncontrollable and angry sobs. "I just wanted Finnick to have a chance at a fair fight rather than face a whole mob against him!"

"Finnick's in 12?" I'm confused and concerned all at once. My family. My friends.

"Cato said his premonitions showed it," Annie hiccups.

"Premonitions?" Johanna blurts.

"Cato sees things sometimes," Marvel tells her, his clothes clumsily buttoned on. "It's what saved him when his district was burned. He dreamt of it before it happened."

"I knew that boy was something else," Haymitch mumbles. "We have to find him."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Marvel implores with earnest haste, grabbing his spear and heading towards the stairwell. I quickly follow until Annie blocks our retreat.

"No! I won't let you kill Finnick!" Annie screeches.

"Get out of our way, you crazy bitch!" Marvel barks. Annie holds her position and as Marvel is about to just push her down the stairs, Mags steps in.

"Annie," Mags tries to calm her. "No one said anything about killing Finnick. If anything, we're going to try and stop Cato from confronting him."

"Come with us," Haymitch offers. "If Finnick's still in there, you're the one to bring him back to us."

I peer over Marvel's shoulders to watch the young woman's face contort into a wild array of emotions. She clearly doesn't believe that everyone will just leave Finnick be if worse comes to worst, but the chance of seeing the man again is too great for her to pass up. I feel a strange pull towards her at the thought. Am I really that sympathetic towards her plight? I feel as if I can somehow relate.

"We have to hurry then," Annie finally decides, much to everyone's relief. "Cato left hours ago."

I don't know how we'll be able to make it, but that's not discussed as provisions are gathered while Mags visits neighbors to get Marvel and I another horse for our journey back into 12. The people here seem all too generous in supplying transportation for me to _leave_ their district.

"I want a weapon," I say to Marvel as I cling to him on our galloping horse, the rest of our caravan riding with Haymitch leading the way.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Peeta," Marvel turns to tell me.

"You don't trust me," I say as I grit my teeth and my grip on him loosens. I don't blame him but the statement comes out as an accusation nonetheless.

"It's not _you_ I don't trust. It's just I don't know when that thing inside you is gonna show itself again. I would love to arm you, Peeta, but arming you means I'd be also arming _it_, and that would be a dangerous move."

"I know. But what if Cato needs my help?" I ask, desperately. He turns to me again, a smile creeping up on his face this time.

"So, that's what you're worried about," he grins, cheekily. "Big bad 2's got a hold on you. You care about the brute."

"I just don't want anything bad to happen," I mumble with my head down towards my chest, a pathetic attempt at hiding the blush. "And I certainly don't want to just stand there, helpless, watching it all go down."

"None of us do," Marvel declares. "But we don't want you dying out there either."

"That may be inevitable," I inform. "You and Cato need to just redirect your focus on him. I'll handle my own problems."

"Oh, yes, because you were doing such a wonderful job when you were two seconds away from getting stabbed to death when Cato first found you. Or when you were drowning in the ocean, or-"

"Okay!" I cut Marvel off. "I get it. But, still, I mean it. There are bigger things going on right now for me to be distracting anybody. If something happens to me, then it happens. Cato's the priority now. I really do appreciate you and him trying to help me, but that has to stop. There's a bigger threat for Panem that needs your undivided attention than a possessed kid from 12. Got it?"

Marvel's back is to me again while his eyes focus on the woods ahead of us. He's quiet for too long so I nudge him in the ribs with my knuckles and ask again. "Got it?"

"Got it," he surrenders. I feel a slight high from this little victory and settle into the saddle. "You know I don't speak for Cato, though," he adds. "You're going to have to be a lot more persuasive than that to get him to fold."

"I guess I'll just have to strike a deal with him, I suppose," I answer, cryptically. "He'll do something I want, and in return I'll do something _he_ wants."

"Ha, we both know what he wants," Marvel laughs and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Yes, we do. But isn't _that_ the best way to persuade him?" I try to sound nonchalant about it all, but the heat in my cheeks and the slight quiver in my fingertips tell me I'm being far too bold about something I know nothing about. Marvel knows I'm being serious though and he stops laughing.

"Ninety-nine percent of the time, I'd say 'fuck yeah'. _That_ would be the best way to get any guy to do anything you want; climb the tallest mountain, swim the largest ocean, hell, walk around Panem dressed like a fuckin' chicken. Cato would be wrapped around your finger even more than he already is. But what you're asking of him in return is the one thing where you've got no chance of persuading him. You're asking Cato to put you on the sidelines while he deals with his own shit. Now I know things have been happening so fast, but trust this from someone who's been watching it all from the front row; he's never going to put you on the sidelines. You're front and center in his life now, Peeta. Fuck, you give yourself to him and he'll be even more possessive of you than he is now."

Marvel's insights have me feeling heavy. Strangely enough, they also send a warmth through my being that leaves a trace of a grin on my face. But I quickly shake it away as I get back to the task at hand.

"So what do I do then to get Cato to stop being so worried about me so he can focus more on himself?"

"I guess the only thing left is to just show him there's no need to be worried about you. Keep fighting what's inside of you, and if you feel like you're losing control, don't let him see. Pretend it's all alright and that you've got it handled. Don't tell him if things get bad. Tell me."

"We just went over this, Marvel. You are not to concern yourself about this either," I chide.

"Right, right," he shakes his head. "Well, if you're not gonna tell me, please, for everyone's sake, tell Haymitch, or even Mags. They'd be more levelheaded about it than Cato or I would. We just don't want to be blindsided if something happens to you."

"Fair enough," I agree. I respect Marvel's honesty that he at least acknowledges that I can lose this battle inside me. Everyone else in the group is so fucking optimistic about it when they speak to me, talking to me about it like I'm a child, idealistic and naïve. I'm not stupid. I know the end is growing ever closer. I know the odds are not in my favor. I mean, we still haven't found any answers. I'm closer and closer to becoming another statistic of what happens to the "afflicted." I think back to Madge on that night in her room. How long do I have left before I get worse? Before I am completely lost like her? I feel like I am simply biding my time until I lose my soul with the rest of them. Whatever happens, I need to make the most of the time I have left.

Going back home suddenly sounds like a wonderful thing. Maybe we can get there before Finnick, put a stop to him, and I can see my family one last time. Give them answers, closure. I can see Katniss and Gale and all my other friends. Commit their faces to memory before all I see is darkness. And then there's Cato. I've been fighting his aggression about all of this when it was actually the thing I needed most. I needed someone to show that they gave a damn no matter what and weren't just going to cast me away because of my "condition." He saved me when I thought all hope was lost. I still have time to save him too.

And, if I don't, I can at least be with him for the remainder. My last moments in my body, I can use them to feel his. I can run my fingertips across his skin, feel the weight of his body over me, the pressure of his lips on mine. I can let go and feel things I've never felt before but that I want to feel with him. And, in the end, I can look into his eyes and see him looking at _me_. Those eyes will always be searching, trying to find me. And I'll stay as long as I can.

The darkness inside recognizes that I've been at an impasse all this time, my feelings towards my own fate and for Cato stuck in limbo. It was a measure to guard myself and my soul. If you don't move, you can't make the wrong move. But I'm not stuck anymore. It leaves me feeling incredibly vulnerable, but at the same time, strong. I feel a new sense of vigor coursing through my veins that is all my own.

"Holy hell, look up ahead!" Johanna suddenly warns as we all ride further into the woods. Instinctively, I grip Marvel's sides a little tighter and peak around to see what lies before us. The carcasses of three slain mutts block our path as we slow and trot around them. Trees nearby bear the vicious markings of their talons, a chilling display of what they could do to human flesh.

"Shit, _these_ things are what have been following you guys?" Johanna asks with awe and disgust as she stares into the hollow eye sockets of one of the beasts. I can see the same expressions of disbelief plastered on Mags, Haymitch, and Annie.

"Yes," Marvel informs. "More specifically, they are what have been following Cato."

"Well, from the looks of this scene, the boy's got it handled," Haymitch compliments.

"The trees up ahead are all torn up too," I observe. "There must be more that are still chasing him."

"Well let's quit gawking at this bloodbath and keep moving then," Johanna demands.

We all pick the pace back up, riding as hard as these amazing steeds can manage until we come up on another batch of mutilated mutts. My eyes scan the scene as I frantically search for any signs of human injury and my body goes numb at the sight of a patch of darkness on a pile of leaves. Without a word, I jump off our horse and race to the scene.

"Peeta!" I hear Marvel call, but it seems muddled. "What's wrong?" I think he says.

I kneel down to the dark patch and place my fingers into wetness. I bring them to my face to see red. Human blood. A pang of distress courses through me and, simultaneously, I feel _it _become frantic and eager. The blood suddenly makes my heart palpitate and works my body into a frenzy. My own blood flushes my cheeks and warms my core. It _excites_ me.

I'm entranced and absorbed by the site and sensations of Cato's blood and I know then that I'm slipping away.

"Haymitch," I manage to desperately whine before I close my eyes and fight the horrific urges bubbling up inside. It's not enough blood. I want more. I _need _more. Oh god, what is happening?

I feel the sudden pull of strong arms wrapped around my torso as I'm dragged across the forest floor. Cool wetness cascades over my hands and something soft rubs against them. Slowly, I feel myself return. I understand now that someone is getting the blood off me. I open my eyes to see the grey of Haymitch's studying mine.

"Peeta," He barks roughly. He looks enraged, guarded. "Speak."

"What do you want me to say?" I mumble, confused. These words alone soften his vicious demeanor and I hear sighs of relief from the others. I whip my head around to see the rest of our group gathered in defensive positions before us. I'm taken aback by Johanna's axes trained on me.

"Well, are you going to do it?" I ask as I glare at her, resigned to what had just happened and to how I'm clearly endangering the group.

"Of course not, dummy," she grunts as she lowers the axe blades. A rush of air escapes my lungs that I didn't even know I was holding. I'm strangely relieved and disappointed in her at the same time.

"There wasn't much blood at all," Mags suddenly declares, getting us back to the task at hand. "Cato sustained a superficial wound here at best."

"Enough to slow him down?" Annie implores.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Marvel hisses as he reaches down to help me to my feet.

"Not at all," Haymitch answers Annie, decidedly ignoring Marvel and the heated tension. "Cato clearly kept going, completely unfazed."

"Which is exactly what we need to do," Mags orders as she saddles back up. "No more distractions. We're wasting time."

I hoist myself back up on the horse with Marvel, too ashamed to meet his gaze upon me. "Just drop it," I grumble.

"I didn't say anything," he defends. I see him reposition his spear further away from me this time. Shit. He's growing more wary. He's losing trust in me. Then again, he's not Cato. Cato would ensure that it was nothing and that I was fine. I decidedly grip the saddle instead of Marvel's waist as we ride off.

We don't come across anymore signs of struggle or, best of all, Cato's body, along our journey to 12. Eventually, the terrain starts to become more familiar and I know we're getting close to home.

"We're almost to 12," I call out to the others. "There should be a river coming up shortly."

I see Haymitch's eyes trained on something in the distance to his left and he looks back at Marvel and me and nods. I follow where his gaze was and see the stone altar in the shadow of the woods. It looks so different in the light but just as menacing and a shiver runs through me when I see lumps on the ground beside it; the men from 12 that Cato had killed to save me. No one has found and claimed them yet. I swallow the lump in my throat and nod back at Haymitch. He turns and continues forward, our unspoken exchange completely unnoticed by the rest.

The river comes into view and we cross at a shallow point, painfully close to our destination.

"I think you should put that cloak back on before we get there, just in case," Marvel suggests. I quickly fumble into the oversized garment, ignoring that it came off a dead man, and put the hood up to hide myself.

"I see buildings!" Annie suddenly cries out. Sure enough, district 12 comes into view and, to our relief, it looks to be still intact. I can't help but rest my forehead against Marvel's back.

"Oh, thank goodness," I sigh. I was seriously anticipating a shit storm. I feel Marvel's back rumble with a light chuckle.

"Yes, thank goodness," he agrees. "Now, let's go find that brute and kick his ass for ditching us."

We're in good spirits as we ride into 12, but it doesn't last for long. Johanna is the first to state the obvious.

"Uhh, I mean, I've never been to 12 before, but shouldn't there be, I don't know… people?"

"Where is everyone?" Annie asks Haymitch and me. The streets of the village square are empty.

"I don't know," Haymitch replies, honestly. "Something's very wrong here. Stay quiet. Be on guard."

The village square is a ghost town as all the shops' doors and windows were closed, not a soul in sight.

"I want to check on my family," I whisper to Marvel. "The bakery is right there."

"Later," Marvel promises. "Let's just scope out the rest of your district first and find Cato."

We make our way into the Seam when the hair prickles on the back of my neck.

"Something's here," I warn. Marvel stops our horse and we dismount, the others following our lead. Walking through the Seam, the homes are dark, blinds drawn and doors locked. Suddenly, we hear a child's cry. I know the sound. I immediately run towards it.

"Shit! Peeta!" Marvel yells after me. I know that voice. Katniss's little sister. The first sound we've heard in the entire district and it's Primrose. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Her cry seemed to have echoed off an alleyway and I run through it only to come grinding to a halt at the bodies littering the narrow passage. Marvel bumps into me and sees the same thing I do. The others aren't far behind.

"Fuck," Haymitch utters when he arrives. "These were men from the mines. Toughest sons of bitches in all of 12. I think I'm getting the picture now. Everyone's hiding in their homes. These brave but sorry men went after the threat and…"

Prim's cry interrupts us and I'm off again, leaving the others behind as I jump the bodies and break out from the other side of the alleyway and onto the backstreets. My eyes suddenly lock onto Cato. Cato!

"Peeta?" He looks as if he's seeing a ghost, then he freaks out. "What the fuck are you doing here? Go!"

I don't move a muscle. Instead, I take in the sight of him. He's a little worse for wear, but still very much alive. He standing, legs apart, protective, sword brandished at the ready. He looks like a shield. He _is_ a shield, for behind him lies Katniss, beaten and shaking in Gale's arms, Prim crying as she fumbles to stanch the flow of blood from a cut on her sister's head.

"Peeta, I said go!" Cato roars. "He's still out here somewhere!"

"Finnick?" I ask as I disregard his plea and rush to Katniss.

"So you've heard of me too," an unfamiliar voice gloats too close to me from another alleyway. "Damn, I'm popular."

My blood turns to ice. Shit.


End file.
